Old School
by mistressmarionette
Summary: Jinx, Gizmo, Mammoth, Kyd Wykkyd, SeeMore, Billy Numerous, X.L. Terrestrial, Private HIVE,and Angel during their school days. A look at the lives of the HIVE. Chapter 25: March of the Penguins
1. Chapter 1

Something I want to explain before this starts:

I am well aware that in the old comic series Mammoth and Gizmo were called Baron and Mikron, respectively, and had backgrounds following those. Same for Jinx. To be honest, I don't really care. The cartoon version that I watched never really extended much into any of their backgrounds, and I never read the comic book series that came before that. Call me lazy if you want, but this is not a matter of my not having looked into it. It's just me not caring. If this bothers anyone so much, then they don't have to read this. Problem solved.

Anyway, this is basically a companion piece to Jinxed for Life (go read it!), and is greatly inspired by the work done in Metronome Maven's story Mind Control (go check it out, it's cool stuff!). We take a look at the HIVE's school days, where they're from, what they do, why they do those things, etc. Reviews are incredibly welcome!

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Old School Chapter 1 

**The Family**

In every family, there is a mother.

Angelica "Angel" Imbracht, assumed this role day one. She was the oldest, not to mention one of the few girls, so it seemed appropriate. Her teachers were in love with her and her classmates, who had not quite figured out what the full extent of "love" could mean, admired her to no limit. She was sweet and wise and told stories that she usually wrote herself because she abhorred Disney and was obsessed with making herself as beautiful as could be because her mother had taught her that beauty was the strongest weapon a woman could have. The wings on her back and her golden eyes had most people convinced that she truly was an angel from heaven, but when asked she would shrug, smile sadly, and say that no, Los Angeles was probably not anything like heaven at all, sorry.

The HIVE family had no father, but there were uncles. Bailey Frinze-Perez and Montego Lopez, "Private HIVE" and "Mammoth" respectively, were equal in age, strength, will, and heart even for their differences. Bailey got toys for the kids; Montego made sure they put them away. Bailey encouraged the kids to take risks; Montego reminded them to be careful. Bailey was slow and warm and sweet as honey; Montego was gruff and rough and huggable. Bailey threw odd central North American witticisms into his conversation; Montego always had some analogy about his Abuelita at his disposal. They were brothers and rivals and two legs for Angelica to stand firm on.

Their first born child, William "Billy" Numrus-Jones "Numerous" of the grand region of Corporate South West, was trouble, trouble, trouble. He could split off into multiple selves that could mouth off to his teachers, sneak out at night, make fun of his "siblings", and be injured in the medical wing all at the same time, which gave his "mother" a headache. His friend on the outside, Jonathan "Johnny" Sykes "Rancid", gave him a place to stay when he crossed the line. But Billy always came back and owned up to whatever it was he had done…eventually. But he wasn't always bad; he listened to his "mother" and followed his "uncles" about like a puppy, and hung on most everything they said. As he grew, he became ruder, wittier, and, curiously, not much taller. He was obsessed with cars, and drove even though the law of the land said he was blind.

His first brother, Xilo, lived up to his nickname, "X.L. Terrestrial". He could grow and shrink as he pleased, much to his shorter brother's frustration. He came from a planet whose people was an army, and he had been lieutenant, which was apparently supposed to be a good thing. He was supposed to send in reports every month or so on what he'd learned about Earth, and eventually, he was supposed to go home. He filed these reports faithfully, but sometimes forgot to include certain details, such as what a cigarette was, or why humans were always in such a bad mood the morning after having had a good drink. These he kept for himself to enjoy. Earth had a few silly customs, but only as silly as the regime back home.

Next in the family tree came Elliot Knight, otherwise known as "Kyd Wykkyd". Nobody (except for Angelica, of course) was completely sure where he was from, and none of them really wanted to know. He was like a noir film; pale and black-haired and mysterious. When he was angry, his eyes glowed bloody red; at other times, they sparkled a lighter, pinker kind of ruby. Elliot was a house-wrecker; he smashed and stole and tagged and bit and kicked and dropped fragile things from tall heights and buried things that ought not to be buried. Being a teleporter allowed him to create believable alibis to tell his mother, not to mention maximize the amount of damage he could create within an hour. Elliot could speak, but didn't; no one was sure why. But he could laugh and scream and whistle innocently, and he truly listened to about two and a half people, and he usually joined Billy on his numerous trips to the medical wing.

Jaya "Jinx" Sandavas and Seymour "See-More" Evans arrived at nearly the same, and couldn't have been any more a case of opposites. Seymour was a New Yorker, loud, opinionated, seen-it-all, and a little too curious for his own good. Jaya was Indian, quiet, introverted, artistic, and soft-spoken…until Billy tugged a strand of her cotton-candy colored hair one time too many. The hexes had flown, and Billy had gone to the medical wing, and Seymour had said, a little self-consciously, that she really wasn't much of a girl, to which Jaya had responded that he wasn't much of a guy, which had seeded the beginning of a strong, inseparable friendship. Jinx and See-More were top students, and perfect little angels as far as their teachers were concerned. This could have had something to do with the fact that they were shameless suck-ups and butt-kissers, but everyone except Billy thought they were so cute that they never said anything about it.

Last and youngest was Vito "Gizmo" Giovanni. Small, smart to say the least, and Italian, he seemed to have about three moods: triumphant, angry, and tired. His English wasn't perfect; at times he would try to speak as fast as his brain was working, and the result was a trainwreck of English, Italian, and gibberish. A brave person might have called him the baby genius of the group; Angelica simply called him the younger brains. Angelica and Jaya were the only people allowed to touch him for more than three seconds; everybody else was better off running for their lives. Sometimes Vito would become very quiet for days on end, which would weird his family out a little, but he always went back to engineering and inventing and telling people why they were wrong about this or that eventually.

It was Vito who one day inquired why their HIVE family had no father.

"Because, dearest," Angelica said sweetly, "The virgin Mary was woman enough to give birth to Christ. What on earth do I need a Joseph for?"

"But you're not Mary," Vito pointed out, "And the Bible is full of crap."

"Watch what y'all say," Billy said conscientiously. He had been forced to go to church several times in the earlier days of his life, and somehow the Holy Word had always stuck with him just a little bit. "Or God'll strike you down right there. With lightning an' stuff."

"Why can't Bailey or Montego be the dad?"

"You're a little young for those things," Bailey said gently, coming to Angelica's rescue.

"What?"

"We'll tell you when you're older," Montego said shortly. He had just finished giving Jaya and Seymour a short-hand version of "the talk" and wasn't ready to go through the process again.

Vito stuck his tongue out at him. He did not consider age an excuse for ignorance. "All this still doesn't answer my question."

The Arithmetic/Debate teacher, Jared Nanson, happened to be passing by. He rapped his cane on the floor for their attention.

Angelica rose to greet him. "Would you like to sit, professor?"

"Sorry, better things to do," Jared indicated towards the group of them with his chin, as if he could see them. "What's all this?"

"Angelica can't be a mother is there's no father," Vito stated.

"Too right she can't. So what's the debate?"

"I am the mother simply by being responsible for you, dearest," Angelica smiled warmly. "So Jared's right. There is no debate."

"Plenty of families don't have fathers," Billy chimed in.

"We can't all take an example from _your _family," Vito said nastily. Before Billy could retort, Jared said:

"Family? You're no family. I'd have thought you people would have outgrown games like "house" by now."

The students regarded their mentor coolly.

"If we're not a family," Angelica said, "then what, pray, are we?"

"A murder."

Billy snorted. "A murderer? What, we're each a little piece of one big killer or somethin'?"

"A _murder_," Jared said, using his lecture voice, "Is as a school of fish, a flock of sheep, a gaggle, a herd, a group. You lot are a _murder_." He chuckled. "In everything meaning of the word, really."

He stalked off, tapping his cane for guidance as he went, and the students looked at each other, puzzled.

"I'm the mother because I say so," Angelica said finally. "And that is simply that."

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If anybody has ideas for future chapters, please tell me! For now, the next chapter is: The Faculty! Jared Nanson and more! 


	2. Chapter 2

Happy Thanksgiving, y'all!

Lot's of OCs today, sorry about that. The teachers don't do that much, but if I don't get them explained and done with now, I never will. We'll get to the real material next chapter!

Edit: I can't believe I completely forgot a whole character! Okay, X.L. Terrestrial is in there now. Sorry!

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**Thanksgiving**

"They did not!"

"They did too!"

"They did what?" Angelica asked.

Billy turned to her, seething. He jabbed a finger in Vito's direction. "Tell him they didn't!"

"_Who_ didn't do _what?_"

"It is almost scientifically proven," Vito said firmly, "And especially given the circumstantial evidence, that the Pilgrims did not eat turkeys on Thanks giving."

"Well, they didn't eat…eat…" Billy seemed too embarrassed to say it, and so Vito had to say it for him:

"Dead Indians?"

"They didn't!"

"What is this?" Xilo interrupted.

Billy took a deep breath. "The Pilgrims didn't eat---"

"Pilgrims?" Xilo asked. "Thanksgiving?"

Billy smacked his forehead. "Sorry. The Pilgrims were the first settlers of America. Thanksgiving is when they had this big feast with the Indians---"

"When they _ate_ the Indians,_"_ Vito muttered.

"And ate TURKEYS. And corn. And stuff. NOT INDIANS!"

"All right, calm down," Angelica placed a hand on each of their shoulders. "Class starts soon---"

"Yeah!" Vito said. "Let's ask her!"

"Ask who?" Pandora, the history professor, swept into the classroom. "Are we referring to me?"

"Yes, professor," Angelica said with a sweetness that was only a little forced. "Perhaps you could clear up a small matter for us, given your great age and knowledge."

Professor Pandora, who after thousands of years had never physically aged past twenty-seven, smirked at the hidden slight. "Indeed. Well, let's have it."

Billy gulped, turning bright pink. Pandora tended to have that effect on her male students.

Vito snorted. He wasn't old enough for Pandora to affect him so powerfully. "The Pilgrims ate dead, diseased Indians out of the ground on Thanksgiving. There was nothing else _to _eat. It's almost scientifically proven! And circumstantial evidence supports it as well. So Thanksgiving has nothing to do with thanks or giving, it's just cannibalism and selfishness---"

"It is not!" Billy cried hotly.

Pandora sighed. "Is this honestly relevant to anything?"

"But today's Thanksgiving!"

"I must have missed the memo," Pandora said drily. "Now go to your seats, please, so we may begin class."

Vito stalked off to sit with Jaya and Seymour, while Billy stalked off in the other direction with Xilo in tow.

"Professor, I must admit I am curious," Angelica said, carefully innocent. "You usually are so eager to discuss such historical matters. Is it simply that this is an unpleasant memory, or that you weren't present for the occasion? At which I must question your qualifications for your current position as our history professor---"

"Young lady," Pandora cute her off neatly. "Perhaps one day you will learn the difference between subterfuge and outright arrogance."

"Professor, I have no idea what you could be referring to," Angelica assured her. "But class is beginning. Please, teach. I was so eager to learn your version of the fall of Hitler."

This seemed to please the professor, as she began to settle at her desk. "Your history books claim," She began, "That Hitler committed a double suicide with his wife in a bunker god knows where, which is complete nonsense. What _really_ happened…"

"You were pushing it a little," Montego muttered to Angelica as the lecture progressed.

"I could kill that bitch," Angelica said, smiling fixedly. "Outright arrogance indeed! I could scratch her ancient, beady little eyes out…"

"I like her eyes," Bailey said absently, completely oblivious to Angelica's sudden glare of death. "And her skin…"

"It's the hair that does it fer me," Billy offered. Xilo shot him an odd look, but had nothing to contribute.

"And her neck."

"Yes, her neck," Angelica whispered scathingly. "And her tits. And ass. Any other fetishes I missed?"

"Her feet," Montego smirked. "They're tiny. Hell, let it go, Angel. You can't win 'em all."

Angelica pouted, and let herself slump into a very unladylike position. "Watch me."

Their next class was English, and all the students knew the Great Thanksgiving Debate would have to wait, because Professor Moore was a proud English witch, and would tolerate very little in the ways of patriotic discussion within her classroom. Professor Moore allowed very little debate of any kind within her classroom, and secretly a few of the students could admit they appreciated it. In the long line of infuriating regimes and the ridiculous rules instigated by their new Headmaster, English was the cooling period of the day.

The professor's blue eyes swept across the classroom. "There is a serious imbalance here today," She observed aloud. "Vito and Jaya, please switch seats."

Jaya gathered her bag and the sketchbook she had already unpacked and crossed the room, waving halfheartedly at Seymour and Elliot as she went. Her lip curled as she took a place near Billy.

"What's the art project now?" Billy stage-whispered. "The Billy Goats Gruff crossing a bridge?"

"It's your ass on a platter," Jaya whispered back. Xilo snickered almost uncontrollably until Billy punched his arm. Jaya rolled her eyes, and flipped to a new page in her sketchbook. Professor Moore always let her draw in class.

Vito settled in next to Seymour and Elliot, and tried not to roll his eyes when both nudged him and Seymour asked, "What's up?"

"Thanksgiving is a hoax, that's what's up!" He snapped. "I just can't get that hick to admit it!"

Seymour rolled his pupil-less eyes. "Everything's a hoax in your world."

Elliot leaned over and wrote on Vito's notebook, _I heard something about cannibalism?_

Vito nodded. "There were no turkeys. They dug up the Indians who had died from the diseases brought on the ships and ate them."

Elliot took a moment to consider the idea, and then wrote, _Rock on_.

"If you three are finished," Professor Moore said gently. Always gently. Always soft. No one had the guts to find out if she had a temper.

Elliot looked up and smiled at her beatifically. She returned the expression cautiously. It was an open secret that Elliot was without a doubt her favorite student.

She was just opening the book to read when there was a knock on the door. "Come in."

Professor Ferrell, current chemistry professor and erstwhile HIVE student poked his head in. He flashed a sharp, dimpled grin towards his class, and then turned his mercurial eyes to the English teacher. "Do you have a copy of Dante's Inferno? I've lost mine."

Professor Moore gave him an acidic look. "Is it truly imperative that you have it immediately, George?"

"But I had this amazing idea for their next class, Lenore," He replied cheerfully, with a wink towards his groaning class. "Oh, and should you be interested, you-know-who is making the rounds today, so look active."

"Is it necessary that we refer to him as you-know-who?" Professor Moore asked wearily. "He isn't Voldemort."

"As far as you know," Professor Ferrell shrugged. "Have you got it?"

"On the shelf."

She and the entire class watched as he retrieved the book. He turned back to her. "I'll return it later, shall I?"

"Yes, later," She said pointedly. With one last cheerful wave, he was gone, and she sighed, disgusted.

"You're a little hard on him," Angelica commented. "And he isn't the worst you could do, really."

"He is young and ignorant," Professor Moore replied coolly. "I have no interest in such a relationship. Now, the lesson for today…"

Brother Blood did indeed look in halfway through the class. And Jinx would have had her sketchbook confiscated if Billy hadn't tugged her hair just in time. She was grateful, but she couldn't help but kick him under the desk out of habit.

Lunch came afterwards, and the older students were careful to make sure that Vito and Billy made no contact for the duration of the meal.

After that was gym, and Coach Faeh, small, balding, and Egyptian, had no patience for 'pointless nattering'. Brother Blood sat in for that class as well, motioning for one of his assistants to write something down every so often. The students found this distracting, and rightfully so; the last time Brother Blood had required that something be written down, their spring break had been cut in half. It was so distracting that Billy ended up landing badly and dislocated his knee. Montego and Angelica accompanied him to the medical wing while the rest of the class finished the period.

All three were out of temper; Angelica was worried for her first-born child's health, Billy was insisting that it was just a knee, not a big deal, it didn't even hurt, and Montego was tired of Billy trying to be a tough guy even as he had his jaw set in pain.

The school doctor, David Moore, was Professor Moore's younger brother; he was just as English, witchy, pale, dark-haired, and blue-eyed, and whatever temper she seemed to lack he compensated for in double and triple the capacity.

"Just your knee, is it?" He grunted as he guided the bones back to their proper order. "Doesn't hurt, does it?"

"David, you're a sadist!" Angelica cried tearfully.

"If it doesn't hurt him, then what does it matter?" Dr. Moore replied bitterly. He turned his attention back to Billy. "Every day you come in here, cool as you please…"

"But it doesn't hurt," Billy said stubbornly.

"One thing after another with you! If you're so eager to die, I can recommend several easier methods…"

"Don't give him any ideas," Montego said darkly.

Billy glared up at him. "An' just what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Be more careful."

Billy rolled his eyes. "Why does he keep doing that anyway?"

It took the doctor a moment to notice that all three students were looking to him expectantly. He put his palms up. "You're asking the wrong person."

"Nonsense," Angelica said. "You are a faculty member."

"But not a teacher. I just waste medical equipment on you people." He tapped Billy's knee for his attention, and looked faintly pleased when Billy winced. "You're patched. Get back to class, all three of you."

The trio walked---or limped, in Billy's case---into Chemistry, and noticed right away the immediate silence that greeted them. Brother Blood looked at them coldly. "You are late."

"Injury," Montego said shortly, taking Billy's elbow and towing him to his seat. Angelica tried to smile sweetly toward Blood, but anyone who knew her could tell that even attempting the gesture made her feel sick.

"Well," Professor Ferrell said, clapping loudly, turning to Brother Blood. "I believe you've seen all you needed to see?"

Brother Blood's lip curled. "Indeed," He said, practically gliding to the door. "Very good, George. You seem to have things well under control, despite your…well," He smiled condescendingly. "I'll, uh, leave you to it, as you say."

As soon as he was out of sight, Professor Ferrell's sharp face turned ashy and sour. "I really hate these stupid inspections." He stomped towards the door and slammed it shut. He then passed his fingers over the edges, welding the door into a smooth part of the wall. He turned back to his class. "Anyone know what that was about?"

"Oh," Angelica's face fell. "You mean you don't know either, George?"

There was a silent agreement between Professor Ferrell and his students that calling him 'Professor' was unnecessary, especially since it hadn't been so long since he had been a student.

George shook his head. "As if they tell me anything. I'm no older in their eyes than I was when I was with you." He pulled up a chair and swung it so it faced backwards, and straddled it. "Seriously, though. I can't believe we switched management like this." A thought occurred to him. "Billy, why are you limping?"

Billy snarled at him. Bailey punched his arm lightly.

"George," Jaya piped up. "We're not really doing something based off of Dante's Inferno, are we?"

George grinned at her. "No, I'm afraid not. Of course, if anybody thinks of anything…Seymour? Perhaps you have an idea?"

Seymour looked up sharply, fumbling to hide the note he'd been writing to Elliot. "Not really, no."

"Huh." George shrugged. "And I don't want to hear anything about dead Indians, do you understand?"

"But George!" Vito sprang up in his seat. "You've got to say I'm right!"

"It's too dangerous to take sides," George said. "I certainly don't want to get tangled up in one of your debates."

"So you're a wimp," Vito pouted.

"Exactly. Page two hundred fifty-three, if you would…"

Billy shot Vito a triumphant look across the room. Vito stuck out his tongue in reply.

In their next class, a jumbled math class of varying levels, the debate was back on. And Jared Nanson, their math and debate professor, was all for it.

"So they ate dead Indians out of the ground," He mused out loud, pacing back and forth in front of the class with his cane tapping on the ground so he could keep his bearings. "And young William Jones here is in denial."

"So you agree with me!" Vito cried triumphantly.

"Mr. Giovanni, before I can agree with anything I want the facts."

"Okay, fine," Vito prepared to launch into his spiel.

"Before that, I must ask," Professor Nanson turned to his class. "Who has gum? I can smell it. I want a piece too."

Blushing, Seymour drew the pack out of his pocket and tossed it to the blind man, who caught it effortlessly. He sniffed the packet again. "Juicy Fruit? Get Orbit in the future." He began fumbling with the wrapping of a stick. "Continue."

"There is circumstantial and scientific evidence that the Pilgrims ate Indians, not turkeys, on Thanksgiving. All the Indians were dying because the white jerks brought a bunch of diseases on their ships, and they didn't have the immunity to deal with malaria and SARS and---"

"The Pilgrims didn't have SARS!" Billy snapped. "Do you even know what SARS is?"

"Yes, and how would you know if they had it or not? Were you a Pilgrim?" Vito demanded. "No, I didn't think so."

"If the only proof we're going to stand on here is based on questions like "Were you there?", then this debate is going to end very quickly," Professor Nanson pointed out.

Taking advantage of the sudden silence, Billy jumped in with, "There are more sources saying the Pilgrims did _not_ eat Indians than that they did."

"That's propaganda for the dumb patriots," Vito sneered.

"Are you claiming, Mr. Jones," Professor Nanson said lightly, "That majority rules?"

"That's what Democracy is!" Billy said.

"Well, then, let's put it to a vote. Somebody keep track of this for me. All in favor of Vito and his cold, hard, cannibalistic facts, raise your hands." The professor turned in Angelica's general direction. "And the count is?"

Vito had his hand raised, as had Elliot, Seymour, Jaya, and a good few others towards the back of the class. "Thirteen," Angelica called out.

"And all in favor of Billy and his childish Thanksgiving propaganda, raise your hand."

Billy, Xilo, Bailey, Montego, Angelica, and a few others raised their hands. "Um…ten," Angelica admitted.

"Well, there you have it then," Professor Nanson said cheerfully. "According to the democratic system, the Pilgrims were cannibals and grave robbers. Now, our lesson for today…"

Xilo turned to Billy and whispered, "What is SARS, anyway?"

Billy smacked his forehead.


	3. Chapter 3

Now that the introductory stuff is out of the way, chapters should be a lot shorter, more drabble-like. Maybe this means I'll update faster?

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**Apples**

_How Jinx came to hate apples_.

"That is _not_ true," Jaya said flatly.

Billy shrugged. "Y'all don't have to believe me. I'm just tellin' ya facts."

Jaya scrunched up her face in thought, then yelled out, "ANGELICA!"

"I'm sitting right next to you, dearest," Angelica turned to her only daughter and began stroking her hair soothingly. "It is unladylike to yell so."

"But he's a _liar_!"

Angelica glanced at Billy wearily. "Dare I ask?"

Billy smirked. "Johnny Rancid told me. It's gotta be true."

"Told you what?"

"People put razorblades in apples."

"No they don't!" Jaya snapped.

"Why not?" Billy demanded. "People steal an' cheat on their wives an' drown babies an' terrorize countries an' burn houses an' lynch people an' hunt witches an' give each other AIDS. Why can't they put razorblades in apples?"

"Why _would_ they?" Jaya wailed. "That's so horrible!"

"Because they want kids to cut their mouths into bits so they can't talk or eat. Then they starve and die."

"Well then they deserve to," Seymour said, stepping in for his sister. "I mean, it oughtta be hella obvious that somebody messed with the apple. The apple skin would be all cut up."

Billy grinned. "No it wouldn't. It's an apple _skin_. Skin heals."

Jaya, Angelica, and Seymour thought about this for a moment.

Angelica shrugged. "I wouldn't know. I'm sorry."

"Aw, man," Seymour said. "That is hella messed up. That's worse than Jim Crowe laws, man."

"The world sucks," Billy said, but he sounded pleased with himself.

"I am never eating apples again," Jaya announced. "Never ever again."


	4. Chapter 4

Character-drabbles. Something like a cross between background information and just ranting from their point of view. Forgive my indulgence. Every character should get one eventually.

* * *

**X.L. Terrestrial**

It wasn't that Xilo had a large ego. He was not conceited. He had a very fair idea of how things were supposed to work in the universe, how each had to earn his keep. He got was he deserved, and he worked hard for it. He was _not_ conceited.

But Earth was such a retarded planet.

First of all, there was no reason for any planet to have more than one government. It just wasn't right. In a universe of Prinovians, Talthians, Borg, Tamaraneans, and hundreds of other species, there just wasn't room for any single planet to have so much diversity upon it.

There was something else. _Race._All these issues about skin and hair and the size of peoples' noses. What kind of idiot had thought up genetic variation? How _stupid_ could you be? A decent planet kept things nice and uniform. Everyone green, everyone near the same height. Variations and 'accidents' kept locked up tight in the back room.

And with so few problems, maybe Earthlings would be able to get their heads out of their own stupid problems, tighten up their ozone layer, and get involved in _real_ politics. The _universal_ politics. They could pick a political party at _least_.

They could also try bulking up their weaponry. Anyone up to date with the latest artillery knew that nuclear warfare was as outdated as travelling at the speed of light.

And Earthlings were so laissez-faire about _everything._ They didn't even focus on their military or their economy. No, everything was about their _entertainment industry_. They worshipped _actors. _It was so twisted.

All in all, Earth was so completely ready to be owned by Xilo's planet that it was almost a crime that the conquering and enslaving hadn't happened yet.

But Xilo never wrote any of this in his reports to his planet.

He wrote that the economy was unproductive. The weaponry was behind the times. No threat. No value. Not worth bothering with. A planet such as _theirs_, so bent on universal domination, could easily afford to ignore the little green planet for a long, long time. But it was still worth leaving him there, because he had yet to investigate each individual country, each government form.

He also had yet to explore every brand of booze and cigarettes. But he did not write about that.

Xilo was not conceited.

He was just very, very selfish.


	5. Chapter 5

**A DRAMATIS PERSONA, **just in case you all forgot whose who. I might do this once in a while.

Jinx- Jaya Sandavas

Gizmo- Vito Giovanni

Mammoth- Montego Lopez

See-More- Seymour Evans

Kyd Wykkyd- Elliot Knight (thank you Winter-Rae!)

Billy Numerous- William Numrus-Jones

Angel- Angelica Imbracht

Private HIVE- Bailey Frinze-Perez

X.L. Terrestrial- Xilo

* * *

**The Higher Authority**

The education of Montego Lopez and Bailey Frinze-Perez were both funded by military companies. It might have been the same company, but their letters were printed on different stationery, so they probably did work for different people.

Unless the man in charge was just really clever. It made them nervous to think about it.

They'd been recruited young. Bailey had been picked from a large selection of orphaned army brats; Montego had been caught crossing the border with his mother and sister. Genetic engineering had ensued, and now they were at HIVE, completing the other, less important parts of their education. Since their education was already paid for (in surplus, according to the tongue of one clumsy teacher who had been promptly sacked), it didn't matter if their GPA didn't add up to one and a half between the two of them. But they liked to make sure they were at least getting Cs, just in case. The only requirement was that they continue all forms of physical conditioning.

Neither of them knew what they were conditioning for. Neither of them knew who they worked for.

They received letters from their respective organizations every so often, letters that contained nothing of real importance. The organizations called those letters "keeping you updated." Angelica called it "killing trees for a cause that will probably eventually kill even more trees, and a billion baby animals to boot." Bailey had once asked her how a city-girl like her had gotten so environment-conscious, to which she had replied that any idiot with the ability to read should know that the "o" in "ozone" was no laughing matter.

Bailey had laughed.

He had laughed harder as he and Montego realized that their letters were beginning to arrive at the same time, and that the useless information they contained seemed to be about themselves. Or rather, each other.

"It's not funny," Montego had growled. "It means I'm gonna have to kick your ass someday."

"_Someday_," Bailey said lightly. Always light. Always relaxed. It Montego's job to worry, not his. "I'm not worried. I'd totally beat you."

"Up yours."

They had developed a routine in which they opened their letters at the same time. They were about to celebrate this monthly tradition when Bailey said:

"Hey, wait."

Montego had to wait while Bailey rolled his idea around in his head, decided it was worth mentioning, and finally continued: "Let's not open them. Even better, let's burn them."

Montego rolled his eyes. "Very funny."

"No, seriously," Bailey turned to Montego, and his usually sleepy eyes were alert. "Let's just burn them. Just to see what happens."

"Let's not. It's not worth it, man."

If Bailey had ever deemed pouting to be butch and male, he might have pouted. "Why not?"

Montego snorted. "I don't know about you, but I've got shit at stake here. Don't screw with me."

Bailey tapped his letter against his forehead. "Jesus. Everything's personal to you. I was only kidding."

"Don't worry, I forgive you."

"I wasn't apologizing."

Montego snarled. "Look, can I just open the damn thing?"

"Wait." Bailey turned to him. "Just indulge me. _Pretend_ we burned them. Can you imagine how awesome that would be?"

"What the hell is this?" Montego demanded. "What's up with you?"

"Why does something have to be up?" Bailey asked mildly. "Why can't I just pretend? You know, I think all this shit makes us paranoid."

"_You're_ making me paranoid. Can we just get this over with?"

"I don't want to open it," Bailey said, grinning. "Let's just not. Come _on_. Live a little."

"I _can'__t," _Montego glared at him. "Seriously. Don't make me fucking kill you."

Bailey chuckled. "Everything's personal to you. I'm only kidding, man. Chill." He looked down at his letter. "Well, let's get this bitch over with."

"_Thank_ you."

They opened their letters. They read them. They traded letters and read about themselves.

And Bailey had to laugh.


	6. Chapter 6

I might have to bump up the rating on this story eventually, the content's getting a little icky. But I've finally started on the Bumble Bee material! This is setting up a lot of stuff for Jinxed For Life, and another chapter in here. If anybody feels that the, um...insinuations in this chapter are grounds for the rating to go up, please let me know.

* * *

**The New Student**

New students were a common thing at HIVE Academy; every year there was an influx of fifty or so eight to ten year olds. What was not so common, however, was to have a fifteen year old suddenly join the student body and be boosted straight up to the regular classes.

"People," Professor Nanson had rapped his cane for attention. "New kid. Play nice."

She introduced herself as Karen Beecher, aka Bumble Bee.

Angelica, who had always thought it a shame that there weren't more females at HIVE, had warmed to her immediately, and struck up conversation about such subjects as hair, shoes, and parenting. Karen replied congenially, if a little stiffly.

Following Angelica's lead, the students introduced themselves one by one and were met with congenial, if stiff, responses.

Except Billy.

"I've seen her type," He told Bailey later. "My dad used to get secretaries like that all the time. He fired them two months later when he got them pregnant."

Billy's father was a multi-billionaire corporate businessman who expected his son to fulfill his roles as the son and heir. Billy, who was more than aware that his legitimacy as a legal heir should have been under deep scrutiny, found this very amusing.

"But for real," He continued. "She's only here for one thing."

"Which is?" Bailey didn't like to guess the answers to Billy's rhetorical questions. He always ended up giving Billy worse ideas.

"To get whatever she wants by sucking off every teacher she can get her hands on," said Billy.

"Well, until you get proof, keep your damn mouth shut," Montego grunted. "She's frickin' new, kid. Cut her some slack."

Billy had scowled and muttered under his breath. That usually meant the argument was done, for the moment.

Karen proved to be an engaging student who could think on her feet and generally get along well with anyone. She was always perfectly congenial, if a little stiff. She never participated in the in-class debates if she could help it. She never answered questions about herself. She asked lots of questions about everybody else.

"Up to something," stated Billy.

"Testing the waters," Angelica reprimanded him sternly. "Give her time."

Oddly enough, Jaya was siding with Billy.

"I don't like her," She admitted to Angelica in private. "If I had been that secretive when I first came here, would have even bothered with me?"

"Of course, dear," Angelica said quickly, smoothing Jaya's fly-away cotton candy hair. "You were just shy. She's a little shy too."

"She isn't shy about asking questions," Jaya scowled. "And she's a total kiss up. There's a _respectable_ way to kiss up to teachers," She added quickly at Angelica's incredulous look. "She could at least try being subtle about it."

Seymour was wavering.

"She seems like she could be cool, you know?" He told Jaya. "Can't we just give her a try?"

"Couldn't you look into her?" Jaya countered. "Just keep an eye on her. For me."

He and Elliot decided to make a project of it. They made sure not to tell anyone else.

They discovered very little. Karen was a good student, something none of the other HIVE upperclassmen had been in years.

However, she got along very well with Brother Blood.

Elliot made the mistake of relaying this information to Xilo, who immediately told Billy, who immediately crowed, "Isn't that what I said all along? I bet they're doin' it."

The next day, Karen confessed to Angelica that she was very upset because Billy had called her a slut.

"Where does he get the right to do that?" She tearfully asked the other girl. "What did I do?"

Angelica, furious, told him off.

"She's new," She seethed. "If we had done this sort of thing to you when you first came here---"

"Yeah, but you didn't because I didn't give you a reason to!"

"Why are you _being_ like this?" Angelica demanded. "What has she ever done to you?"

"It's just a feeling I've got!"

"Is this a race thing?"

Billy froze. "_What?"_

"Is this about race? Because she's black?"

Billy didn't answer her. He shut his mouth and went to his room.

"Angelica," Bailey said gently. "That was a little too much."

"Well, for all we know, it is," Angelica mumbled defensively. "His upbringing---"

"Then why does he get on so good with Seymour?"

"They fight all the time!"

"They fight like brothers, Angel," Bailey shook his head. "That's different."

Angelica huffed. "Well, we all know his father is a complete asshole. He was a member of the KKK, for crying out loud, a _prominent_ member---"

"And since when does Billy side with his dad on anything? Look, I'm not saying he's right, just…it was a little much, okay?" Bailey sighed. "We'll keep those two away from each other. It's all we can do."

It wasn't enough. Suddenly Karen was fiercely lobbying in the class debates. She always took the opposite side of Billy, no matter what the subject was. Abortion. Driver's licenses. The best way to deconstruct a fifty-foot building in one minute.

The teachers all found these new, vigorous arguments enjoyable forms of entertainment.

The three oldest students cringed in their seats.

Billy had long since forgiven Angelica for the racist comment. She had tried hard since not to mention fathers, the Ku Klux Klan, or stock markets.

Karen was becoming a little more distant. The older students had long since stopped trying to convince themselves that this had nothing to do with how close she had become to Brother Blood.

"I bet they're doin' it," Bailey muttered to Montego.

"I'm waiting for the photos before I decide anything," Montego replied, but not very convincingly.

Angelica tried to hang out with Karen as much as she could, and dragged Jaya along with her for "girl time". But Karen didn't want to socialize.

"I really appreciate it," She told Angelica. "But I'm just so stressed. The homework---"

"We could help," Jaya interrupted. "It's suicide trying to do it all yourself."

"It wouldn't feel right." The door to Karen's room closed.

Jaya gave Angelica a funny look. " 'It wouldn't feel right'? What is that supposed to mean?"

"It's her own business," Angelica shrugged, petting her daughter's hair. "We should keep trying."

"Why? She doesn't even want to talk to us."

Angelica could not deny this. So she backed off a little, giving Karen more and more space as the days passed. Sometimes she would check in on the other girl, and Karen would give her a tired smile, but never answer the question, "How are you?"

The answer would have been too disgusting.


	7. Chapter 7

I have no idea where I got this idea. I was trying to figure out if Johnny Rancid has a power, or a quirk, or what, and this just popped into my head. And I knew I wanted to write the chapter where he and Billy meet, and I needed to set some things for Jinxed For Life…so yeah. Johnny's not a HIVE kid, but as far as I'm concerned, he's involved. And there's so little Johnny Rancid fiction out there.

Oh, and I completely give up on trying to write Billy's dialect. It's too crazy hard. I'm going to go back and edit several parts of Jinxed For Life, and maybe tweak one or two things in this collection.

Oh, and Happy Holidays, y'all!

* * *

**Heartless**

It wasn't that Jonathan Sykes, later known as Johnny Rancid, didn't try to care. He had learned to fake emotions very well. But there were certain situations that he simply couldn't respond to properly, because emotionally he had been pretending to respond from the start.

Johnny had no heart. Not in the metaphorical sense, the "have a heart" mentality that charity-spokespeople used to guilt trip unwilling patrons. He very literally had no heart. Put a hand to his chest, where his heart should have been, there was no pulse. Knock on the spot; it rang hollow. You didn't get as pale as him from a lack of sunlight. It was a lack of blood flow.

He had realized early on that pretending to care about things was a generally good idea, because people seemed to get worried when you turned a blind eye to what was going on. From an early age he learned to watch people and take note of what situation should result in what emotion, learned to smile, laugh, cry, fight, whine on demand, until it became as natural as having real emotions. But interaction with real people was such a joke, such a game. He moved out of his family's house as soon as he could, which ended up being damn early, and got his own place.

He liked cars. Or rather, he was indifferent to cars. Cars didn't have odd expectations of you, they didn't care if you laughed at their funeral because it seemed like it might strike a chord with yourself. That was as close as he came to liking something for a long time. Most other things annoyed him, especially music, because he always got the idea that he was missing out on something when the singers ranted about their feelings.

But living alone, and working in the car garage where he'd managed to impress the manager by reacting so coldly to a gang fight outside, suited him because people thought his cold manner was some kind of _cool._ Chicks dug him. Gangs wanted him. If he had possessed a heart, he might have found all this rather cool himself, but as far as he was concerned, living like that was easier than squirming away from the doctor when he held up the stethoscope during a routine checkup.

He became aware of the HIVE academy when he was about fourteen, and got into a fight with one of its younger students. William Numrus-Jones, aka Billy Numerous, was an angry little piece of work, and was apparently het up about something other than the comment Johnny had made about his eyesight, and that interested Johnny. When he managed to pin the younger boy's arms down, he asked him about it.

"Those bastards called my dad," Billy snarled. "He's coming to Jump City. I _don't_ want to see him!"

Johnny took a moment to think about this. He knew that fathers could be tough, especially when a school called them in. He knew that schools called fathers when they were angry about something. He knew that for a school to be angry, you had to have done something. So he asked the question:

"What did you do?"

"Nothing!" Billy snapped back, wriggling futilely. "This is _routine_! They're gonna do this a lot, all the time. If I wanted to see my dad, I could have stayed home!"

This all sounded very messed up to Johnny. "Is something wrong with your dad?"

"He's a yuppie Mephistopheles, an asshole, a cheating, lying bastard, a---"

"Okay, cool," Johnny said, to make the other boy shut up so he could think. He didn't know what a yuppie Mephistopheles was, but a cheating, lying bastard and an asshole sounded bad. "So, now what?"

"So I left," Billy said proudly. "And I ain't going back."

"You talk weird. So now what?"

"Now what _what__?"_

"Well," Johnny said reasonably. "You gotta go somewhere."

Billy gnawed at his lip. "Got somewhere I can stay?"

"I've got a place," Johnny said without thinking. He had always tried to avoid arguing with people, because improvisation wasn't his thing, and people tended to take it the wrong way when he treated their conflict as something trivial.

"So let me stay there."

"You are a _brat._"

Billy smirked. "Yeah, and?"

Johnny was not good at arguing.

"Yer place is _tiny_," Billy said automatically when they arrived. "Do you really only got two rooms?"

"Do you really talk that way on a regular basis?"

Billy shot him a glare. Johnny didn't bother to try to understand why. Billy took up residence of the couch, and didn't ask for anything else. Johnny had never had a guest before, so he figured that Billy would do as he did, and left him to it. In the morning the boy was gone, and Johnny would not have even remembered that he had had a guest last night if the boy's anger hadn't stuck itself so clearly in his mind. He'd seen fights and couples break up and people get shanked---you saw a lot at the garage he worked at---but nobody seemed to put their heart into what they did quite like Billy had. Like any excuse would be enough to set him off with his bare fists against the world. Crazy mad.

Johnny wondered if people could really live like that.

Billy showed up again a week or so later, asking gruffly if Johnny would let him stay the night again. He didn't seem as angry as before, and Johnny was tempted to tell him no just because his lack of violence was so boring. But he shrugged and let him in, and Billy leapt onto the couch like he owned it.

After another two events like this it finally occurred to Johnny that Billy had been referring to "the school" in all their short conversation, and so he asked him what it was. Billy launched into a twangy description of HIVE Academy and its purpose, its students, its faculty, and its stupid rules that made him so angry.

"I just can't stand it sometimes," Billy admitted. "I gotta get air. That's why I keep coming, I guess."

Johnny shrugged. He didn't really care _why_ Billy kept coming, but a school with that sort of purpose sounded messed up, according to the standards of other people that Johnny tended to employ for his own purposes.

"So, if it's a school for special powers, what can you do?"

Billy grinned. "My whole family's got a set of self-preservative skills that gets spread out through the genes. I can make more of me."

Johnny told him to prove it or get the hell out. Billy made a twin of himself, and they sat side by side, answering Johnny's questions for about an hour. They explained about what their father, how he owned more companies than a man ought to, how he slept with all his secretaries and fired them as soon as they got pregnant, how Billy himself was one of several illegitimate children but for some reason Mr. Jones had decided to make him the heir and he, Billy, hated business and politics. He was at HIVE now to cultivate his interests, so to speak. It was nice to get out of the mansion, but having information shoved down his throat was driving him crazy.

At the end of it all, Johnny said: "If you really can't stand it, then shouldn't you leave?"

The pair scowled at that. "Maybe. But then what would I do?"

Johnny shrugged. "Do you know anything about cars? The guy I work for thinks it's a crack and a half to use child labor."

The boys perked at the mention of cars, and launched into a lengthy description of their dream ride. Johnny pretended to be interested through the whole thing, and the Billies finished their description without ever suspecting him of being bored.

If he had had a heart, he might have called it being proud. But passing for normal had always seemed like it would be a good thing, so it didn't really matter what he called it.

Billy went back to the school the next morning, as usual. Johnny knew he would be back soon.

It was several weeks before Billy showed up again, but when he did Johnny was deeply immersed in a fight. He had found drugs in the car he had been servicing, and like any other human being, had taken them for himself. After Billy's last visit, he had begun experimenting with different substances to see what sort of sensations he could stir up. He had so far been unsuccessful in getting any more of a buzz than what could be wrought from alcohol, and had been pursuing stronger stuff when he'd found Mr. Doe's stash.

He came away from the fight victorious, but with several broken fingers and a deep gash in his arm. Billy had immediately proffered his medical services.

"I get into shit like that all the time at HIVE," Billy explained as he patched Johnny up. "So the doctor there has been trying to teach me about doctoring stuff so I won't have to bother him so much."

Billy was immensely impressed by what he had seen of the fight, and more so by Johnny's cool demeanor as Billy realigned his finger bones.

"It's like you can't feel me doing anything to you," Billy marveled. "How do ya do that?"

"Well," Johnny shrugged. "I can't feel what you're doing."

He explained about his condition, about the way he had to fake things like pain and emotions and how he didn't like bothering people with his odd self, how inconvenient it made things. "I've probably lost that job now," He added. "They don't like it when their guys fight with the clientele."

"I could get you money," said Billy.

"You'll steal some?"

"I'll ask my dad. Tell him it's for a cause in his heir's interest."

"Thought you hated your dad."

"I do."

"Well, then, what are you doing, asking him favors?" said Johnny. "That's weird. If I could hate somebody, I wouldn't ask them for nothing."

"Well, you can't hate anybody. Think of it as me paying off the last few times you let me stay." Billy snuck a glance at him. "I wondered why you were so cool about me staying."

"Should I not have been? You're just a kid."

Billy snorted at that. "That's what everybody says. Could you teach me to fight like that? They don't teach you stuff like that at HIVE. They say dirty business is unsportsmanlike. Everything's got rules. I don't know why. Dirty business and clean business seem all the same to me."

"There's nothing to teach," said Johnny. "I'm just imitating what I've seen."

They talked for a while longer, and in the morning Billy was gone again. He was back two days later with his face and chest bruised.

"Intense training is bullshit," He said, apparently not caring whether Johnny cared or not. He poked a bruise gingerly. "Fuck, that hurts."

"Looks painful," Johnny said unhelpfully.

Billy thought for a moment. "Hey, you ignore pain. Teach me the trick."

"I don't ignore it. I just can't feel it."

"But there's a trick to it, right?"

Johnny shrugged. "Not that I know of."

"Sure there is. There's a trick to everything. That's what Professor Nanson said."

It occurred to Johnny that other people might find Billy's lack of willingness to listen to anyone besides himself very annoying. He wondered if he should apply that to himself, and found himself wondering why the hell it mattered what other people would do.

"I don't see what's wrong with feeling pain," He finally said.

"Well," Billy said thoughtfully. "It _hurts_. Nothing to like about hurting."

"Try ignoring it."

"But it _hurts."_

"Try it."

Billy tried. "It doesn't work," He whined.

"Well, practice makes perfect," said Johnny, quoting something he had heard in an ad once. Because he hoped it might help a little, he added, "I guess I don't blame you for not wanting to feel pain."

"So, do you gotta pretend a lot about things?" said Billy. "I mean, couldn't you just not care?"

"But it makes people uncomfortable."

"So you _do_ care."

"I don't know." Johnny scratched his head. "Sometimes I don't always know what to do, and things get difficult because suddenly people realize that something is wrong, and they want to get involved. I don't want to get sent somewhere for being different."

"Like HIVE."

"Yeah. Like HIVE."

Billy gnawed his lip. "Don't blame you."

And then, because it seemed like a good idea, Johnny asked Billy if he wanted something to drink.

It turned out that Billy had never had a drop of alcohol in his life. But he liked the burning sensation as it went down his throat, and he didn't greatly mind the hangover he got the next day. He asked Johnny if he wanted the money after all, and Johnny said he wouldn't mind some extra cash. Billy came over to his place consistently after that, and continued to do so for a long, long time.


	8. Chapter 8

Jinx's character-drabble. I had this, like, epiphonic idea. I don't even think that's a word. I mean an epiphany. Had an idea and ran with it. There, that sounds better. More character-drabbles to come.

Edit: Wow, it's been up for about thirty seconds, and I'm already editing? Yikes...

* * *

**Tough Boys**

If Jaya had been a boy, she would never have had to be jealous of other girls whose parents scrounged for their dowries from the moment they began walking. Her parents knew no one would want her. They sent her away.

If Jaya had been a boy, she would have avoided Darkway Prep, and the girls with their perfectly straight hair and brown eyes that stared at her.

If Jaya had been a boy, she would have shaved her head and eyebrows, and nobody would ask questions because that's what tough boys did. She would have screamed and kicked and fought because that's what tough boys did when they were angry and miserable. Adults would have given her space. Girls would have kept their distance. Other boys would have looked at her with respect, not confusion.

If she only could have been a boy!

Oh, sure, girls could be mean. They could hiss and spit and write your name up on the bathroom walls and smile like poison when they caught your eye. But it was all subtle, all quiet. Jaya hated it. She wanted fists, and brawls, and _evidence_ when the teachers asked for proof that Anna/Jane/Marie had stolen her book/pulled her hair/spat at her. Stupid, subtle, harmless things, and yet more than that, because she couldn't retaliate in the same way. Her way was different, her way was _violent_.

Well, tough. She couldn't help it. Bad things happened to those girls. She wasn't sorry. But she shrank to the back of the room, in hopes that she could just disappear. They wouldn't get hurt if they would just leave her alone.

She transferred when she was ten. They told her she was going to someplace more suited for her needs. She assumed they meant an asylum. Surely any girl who wanted to be a boy, and somehow managed to get revenge on the girls she envied every time they struck, was crazy.

HIVE Academy had the locked doors and security, but the curriculum was definitely for her.

The stranger-than-life revenge tactics she had been blessed with over the past few years were powers, powers that could be harnessed for other uses. And now she had an outlet. Her old temper began to cool. The girls at HIVE were different, and much fewer in number. But Angelica was a huge practitioner of ladylike behavior, which included sitting still and smiling and never, ever spitting. And Jaya tried, she really did. She liked Angelica. With Angelica to help her, maybe she could learn the tricks that she needed to be a woman. Maybe she didn't have to be a tough boy. Maybe being female could be bearable.

But Billy just _had_ to pull her hair, didn't he?

Memories collided, and she confused combat practice with the revenge fantasies she used to play through her head. Jaya didn't see Billy; she saw Anna/Jane/Marie stealing her book, spitting at her when they thought she wasn't looking at her, _pulling her hair._ Jaya struck out with everything she had.

Billy went to the hospital wing. Angelica scolded her for losing her temper.

Jaya was elated beyond belief. That. That right there. To snap out and hurt somebody who had hurt her back, out in the open, without being sneaky about it. Honest warfare.

That was the whole meaning of _life._

Seymour found the whole thing incredibly funny, and sought her out later to congratulate her. "You know, Jaya," He said companionably, "You're not much of a girl."

Was it strange, Jaya wondered, if she thought that was the most wonderful thing anyone had ever said to her?


	9. Chapter 9

A rather silly little piece. Kind of like Apples, only a little less disturbing. I hope.

* * *

**No Pets Allowed**

For years and years, all Seymour Evans had ever wanted was a dog. Not just any dog; any old dog wouldn't do. He wanted a big, black dog, with big eyes and a big jaw and big teeth (Seymour liked big things.) His dog would fetch shoes when sticks were thrown, he would jump on everybody, he would be one of those dumb-as-a-post dogs that perked up no matter whether you had called for him or not. His dog would follow him everywhere and drag him around by biting down on his shirt with his huge teeth and bark at everything. He would be the most annoying, obnoxious dog, but Seymour wouldn't care, because it was _his_ dog and he didn't care what anybody else said.

One day he plucked up the courage and asked for one. Angelica immediately said no.

"There's a no pets rule," She said. "You're not the first one to want a pet."

In privacy, Billy admitted that he was glad Seymour couldn't get a dog.

"What, are you scared of dogs?" Bailey had laughed.

Billy blushed and denied it furiously. Angelica quickly changed the subject. Billy had told her once about the kinds of dogs his father kept, huge Rottweiler hounds for chasing people off his large property.

Seymour sulked for weeks. Jaya tried to comfort him, but she didn't have the tail-wagging appeal of Seymour's dream dog. Finally, the older students got sick of his moping, and put their heads together.

"I have a surprise for you!" Angelica told him one day, and led him to her room. And what she unveiled was…

Two crickets stolen from the Biology lab.

"It was the best I could do," Angelica explained, wringing her hands. "No pets are allowed, but I figured these could slip under the radar. It really was the best I could do. I hope you'll be satisfied for now?"

Seymour took a long, slow look from one cricket to the other. "I'll call this one…Jiminy," He announced, "And this one…Hitler."

Angelica's face fell a little. "Hitler, dear?"

"He has that kind of look."

Jiminy and Hitler lasted for about two weeks. Then Hitler attacked Jiminy.

"Like I said," Seymour told Jinx later while he was throwing them out. "_That_ kind of look."

After that, all potential interest in pets among the younger students died.


	10. Chapter 10

Had to write about this sooner or later. This has already been brought up in Jinxed For Life, and I'll probably re-explain it there too.

* * *

**Anorexia**

If you had asked Jaya, she would have told you that it happened during her second year. An older student would shake his head and pin-point the start of it all much earlier, when Angelica discovered that by skipping one meal a day, she could keep weight off without much work. It was a beauty thing, and lots of people did it, as she assured Bailey and Montego when she was suddenly five foot seven and barely one hundred ten pounds. Even her mother had skipped meals every so often, and wasn't the school food just awful anyway? So it only made sense that she would limit how much of the stuff entered her body.

"A body is a person's temple, and you two can't argue with me," She told them. "You two spend all you time building up muscle mass. Well, I am a girl. I need to stay slim."

And she flipped her hair at them and smiled.

As more children started showing up, and she became the mother, she realized that it would be unhealthy if everyone followed her example. Mothers were supposed to provide good examples for their children, weren't they? It was an easy fix. She ate a full meal just like everybody else, but left five minutes early from the table to "touch up her makeup." Then she went back to her room and threw it all up.

She got taller. She stayed thin. She lost more weight. She became lovelier every day.

Once she reached the age of sixteen, she stopped. She had reached her full height, and she was fairly confident that burning whatever calories she ate would be no problem. With so many new students, the school's physical expectations in gym had been bumped up several levels.

That should have been the end of all the problems.

* * *

Seymour was an excitable child. His home in Manhattan had been big, and the people were big, and in New York in general, people talked, walked, and acted big. He was only being his natural self, and he found it a riot when his teachers prescribed Ritalin for his behavior. He kept the pill bottles and pretended to take the dosage every day, just as instructed. But he and Jaya had already talked about it, and had agreed that taking pills to fix oneself was a complete and total load. 

Eventually he began to quiet down, and Angelica pointed out sweetly to each of the teachers that his new behavior was the result of a child's growing maturity, _not_ pills. The teachers smile obligingly and didn't say a word.

One day after lunch Seymour collapsed.

Dr. Moore wouldn't let anybody see him, and the next he was back, but tired. Angelica pulled him aside, gave him a big, lipsticky kiss on the forehead and asked him what had happened.

"They were putting shit in my food," He mumbled sleepily. Then he said, "I'm not eating anymore. Nobody can make me."

"Dearest," Angelica said, bewildered. "You can't refuse to eat. Humans need food to function."

"I don't care," He said. "I'm not eating anything they give me. But I don't know what to do…"

"We will get you some food from the outside," She assured him. "It will be easy."

It was not easy. Brother Blood had updated the security systems when he had taken over the school. The students were able to make grocery runs once a month, at most. Seymour kept quiet and rationed out what they found for him, but he got pickier and pickier. Soon it was hard to tell _what_ was happening to the groceries his older peers were providing for him. From the look of him, the food wasn't going into his body.

* * *

Jaya loved Seymour like a brother. It hurt her when he sat at the cafeteria table and stared at the empty tray in front of him while she ate. She knew there was very little she could do about it. She tried not to think about what might be in her own food, because the teachers had never mentioned that she needed any pills of any kind. 

Then again, the teachers tended to not tell them many things.

And it wasn't as though she really _liked_ the food. It had never occurred to her to enjoy it. Food was food. You put it in your mouth.

But she just felt so awful with him sitting there…

She worked hard to engage him in conversation. She began to bring books to the table, and they studied during the lunch hour. Eventually it was _necessary_ to study during lunch, because the teachers', or rather, Brother Blood's, expectations for their classes were becoming ridiculous. Soon lunch was a matter of all books and no food.

* * *

Elliot had never been very hungry to begin with. He picked at his meals. He hated meat. He had an extreme dislike for vegetables. He tolerated bread products. He liked berries, but try getting those fresh. He loved grapes, especially in the form of wine, but try getting that at his age. Food rarely held his interest, and he rarely needed it. So he pretended to pay attention to Jaya and Seymour when they studied. It was as good an excuse as any.

* * *

Xilo was another picky eater. He simply hated Earth food. Food on his planet was far more efficient, mostly liquids in travel size packages that one could keep in his pocket. He had never eaten much of the meals provided by HIVE Academy; he lived on his travel size packages. When they ran out, he lived on the small bites he managed to choke down. 

Unfortunately, Billy found this mighty impressive.

* * *

Billy considered starvation a conquerable challenge. Everything was a challenge to him in those days, a challenge to see exactly how tough he could be. 

"Think about it," He explained to Bailey one day. "An army marches on its stomach. So it has to be a mark of extreme _tough_ if the army don't eat at all."

"Well, you can't not eat at all," Bailey said, serious for once. "That's anorexia. You'd die."

"Yeah," Billy agreed. "But how far do you think I could go without eating and without dying?"

"I don't know," Bailey said. "How long?"

It was Montego who later commented that whenever Bailey tried to answer Billy's questions the situation was guaranteed to get worse.

* * *

Vito had always worked through lunch. He ate a few bites, but his work was more important. His older peers used to lecture him consistently that he needed to slow down and care about himself for a few minutes. But now that the other students were eating less, it was hypocritical for them to nag him about those kinds of things. It was a blessing, really, because now he could get more done. He was so afraid of forgetting an idea before he developed it fully. Food just got in the way.

* * *

The final nail was hammered in the coffin by Professor Pandora. 

She had the class do an overview of the modern world, most specifically America, since that was the school's main demographic. Inflation; the high, middle, low classes, and the homeless. The environment. The ozone layer, the trees and the rain. Meat and other produce, crops, from in the country and out, fresh and frozen. The varying living conditions of the livestock that were made into McDonald's hamburgers. All the different infections that could take hold of a food. All the ways the health departments were unable to detect them.

Angelica, Bailey, and Montego had been valiantly striving to set the good example, to show that being a part of the Clean Plate Club was not a bad thing. It was hardest for Angelica; old habits die hard.

But the day of the last slideshow, of the last definition of the last gruesome disease, the school cafeteria served pork for lunch. And Angelica tried, she really and truly tried, but she could not force herself to even put the first forkful in her mouth. She let the fork drop back onto her plate. She looked guiltily at Bailey and Montego, shaking her head.

"I can't. I really can't."

The eldest boys exchanged glances, and, sighing, put down their own forks as well.


	11. Chapter 11

A little bit of silliness.

**

* * *

**

**Paper Airplanes**

"William, _why_ are you fraudulently wasting paper?" Angelica demanded.

Billy, and Xilo and Seymour, looked up guiltily from the pile of pale sheets before them. Now that Jaya, Montego, and Vito had been assigned to a joint team, and Elliot couldn't always be counted on to be present, Seymour had to take up with what was left of society.

"Paper airplanes," Billy explained. "I was just showing Xilo."

"_I_ was showing Xilo," Seymour said self importantly. "Billy sucks at making these."

Angelica drew up a seat beside them. "I have never seen these."

"You fold them like this," Seymour said, starting a new one. "From the center to here, and here. And then," He held up his newest creation and tossed it lightly in the air, where it seemed to take flight.

"I could do better," Angelica sniffed.

"Well, we know _you_ could," Billy muttered. Angelica smirked at him and pinched his cheek with her long nails.

Xilo threw his own into the air, and it knocked Seymour's off its course. "This is without a doubt the most primitive pastime I have ever seen."

"Well, usually its little kids who make things like this," Seymour said defensively. To Billy, he said, "I can't believe you never made these when you were little."

"Nuh," Billy grunted.

Seymour threw another one into the air.

"I hope you plan to pick those up," Angelica said in her mother-tone. "Class starts soon."

As if on cue, Elliot popped up beside his friend and began inspecting the fallen aircrafts with interest. He reached for a smooth sheet and began copying the folds.

"It's all the rage," Angelica said drily. "Wasting trees on silly pastimes."

"Yeah, well, that's the great thing about trees," Bailey chuckled, taking a seat near her. The bench rocked under him. "Trees grow back, crazy buggers."

"Well, not forever!"

"Here, let me see," Bailey picked one up and turned it over carefully in his hands. "At the kid's camp, we made these by the hundreds. We'd name 'em and race 'em."

"Finally!" Seymour cried triumphantly. "One normal kid in this class!"

Bailey laughed and patted Seymour's head. "Well, I don't think your mother approves."

"Too right I don't," Angelica muttered.

"You haven't even tried making one," Billy protested. "Come on."

Elliot whistled for their attention, and threw his first plane into the air. It flew like the real article, looping around the classroom like it would never land. Angelica frowned at him, and he leaned over to kiss her on the nose.

Xilo and Billy exchanged looks, as if to say, "_When did this happen_?" Bailey, Seymour, and Elliot went back to making more airplanes.

Elliot's plane, still floating lightly, swooped to poke Jinx in the ear as she entered the classroom with Vito and Montego. She caught it and held it aloft. "Paper airplanes? Why didn't you tell me we were making paper airplanes? I'm amazing at those!"

"Let's race a bunch of them," Bailey said. "Come on, one apiece. You too, _mom_," He said, poking Angelica in the spine where it rumpled her wings.

She lashed out and swatted his arm. "No, thank you," She said sweetly.

"But Angelica, they're wonderful," Jaya protested, taking a spot near her. "Look, you fold here and here…"

"And let them go!" Bailey and Seymour threw theirs, and watched with glee as they swooped to the door, which opened to reveal…

"What's this then?"

Professor Nanson's cane swiped the two planes out of the air just before they hit his face. He stooped to pick up Seymour's plane, and felt the creases with his fingers.

"Paper airplanes?" He asked no one in particular. He tossed it away with disgust. "Oh, _grow up_."

The bell rang, and the students began clearing away the mess.


	12. Chapter 12

This idea was in no way mine. It was inspired by many people, predominately zenz3n and her amazing Jinx fiction "Give Me a Break". Males beware!

* * *

**The Secret**

"I am about to teach you the greatest trick known to womankind," Angelica told Jaya proudly, steering her in the direction of Victoria's Secret.

Jaya was decked out in skinny jeans and Seymour's hoodie. She and Seymour were always getting their clothes mixed up. His t-shirts looked like her t-shirts, and he was so skinny that they could wear each other's jeans and never know the difference. Jinx had yet to develop curves. She was beginning to think she never would.

Angelica had tried to down-play her brilliance and light with Bailey's baseball cap and sunglasses, but nothing could hide her long legs, her delicate bird-cage torso, her lithe neck. Her very aura screamed innocence and girl, the kind the shone out of inappropriate magazines and turned non-pedophiles into pedophiles.

When they got into the store, Angelica flashed her brilliant teeth at the sale's girl. She introduced Jinx as her little sister, and the salesgirl nodded, appearing to understand. Jaya didn't know what secret was passing between the two girls, but before she could think about it much, Angelica had dragged her to the bins.

"I have no idea what size you are, but you've got a small frame like me, so stick to the 32's," Angelica murmured, grabbing dozens of lacy pieces. "We'll start small. A-cups. Oh, grab those!" She pointed wildly at a pair of pink and black panties. "Those would suit you beautifully."

Jaya did, and grabbed the other things Angelica pointed to as well.

"The trick to this is to grab so many, and of such variety, that they have no clue what you're taking to the dressing room," Angelica explained. "If you're not finding much, grab more than one of the same thing. The more confusion the merrier. Do you understand?"

Jaya nodded, and let Angelica take her back to the fitting rooms.

"Can we take a room together?" Angelica asked the fitting room girl sweetly. "She's my little sister, and she's still…well. I just want to make sure everything's working for her."

The girl bobbed her head. "Of course! No problem, and if you need, we've got somebody here who can do fittings…" She chattered on forever, encouraged by Angelica's enthusiastic "mm"s and "ah"s.

When they were finally in a room, Angelica's sweet smile took on the contours of a sneer. "Poor thing," She sing-songed to Jaya, "Never knew what hit her. She might get fired. Ah, well, it's for the best."

She made Jaya take off her top and they began going through the bras. Jaya was still almost impossibly small, and Angelica had to run out a few times to grab alternate sizes and styles. When they finally found something that worked, Angelica went out one more time and grabbed every bra of every style and color in that size.

"Try all these on, and pick out your favorites. As many as you like."

As Jaya picked her favorites, Angelica went through her own selection, from solid egg-shell blues to lacy black. By the time Jaya had her selections ready, Angelica had selected ten that were to her liking.

Jaya looked over their haul. There had to be over twenty bras in front of them. "So, are we going to go pay now?"

Angelica smiled, and held one finger over her lips to show that she wanted absolute quiet from Jaya. Then she put one of the bras back on, and another, and another. Jaya got the hint and began hooking her bras on as well. She managed six before she realized that she couldn't fit anymore. "Angelica," She said, waving towards herself.

Angelica, who had just finished hooking her eighth bra, slipped her shirt back on, and grabbed the remaining bras. "These ones are the ones we will pay for."

When they were out of the store, Angelica explained, "The prices at Vicky's Secret are utterly ridiculous, and honestly a little shoplifting does them good. But it's not right to take everything and leave them without giving them a little business. If you rip a company off entirely, then eventually they'll lose so much that they'll have to close, and I don't want Vicky's to close. And who knows," Angelica tossed her golden hair lightly over her shoulder, making boys across the street stare, "Maybe they'll get the hint and mark their prices down. And now you've got something cute for _someday_."

_Someday_ was Angelica's reference to the day Jinx achieved full womanhood. Jaya only knew vaguely what this meant.

"But take this lesson to heart dearest," Angelica wrapped a long arm around Jinx's shoulder. "Crime is all well and good when used towards a greater purpose, such as justice in the world of retail."


	13. Chapter 13

I did a chapter about Johnny Rancid, so I figured I ought to do one about Kitten. BTW, I wrote a random, floating one-shot called "Spoiled Rich Kids". It's BillyXKitten, if anybody's interested.

* * *

**Super**

Her father had told her a thousand times that he loved her.

And Katherine Keith, better known as Kitten, believed it. He was the best daddy in the world. He was a semi-rich parent of the old school who provided her with the life a semi-rich child of the old school deserved. He gave her freedom, he supported her activities, he paid for her phone and car, and for repairs when the car got messed up due to circumstances that were _completely_ beyond her control.

He was such a good father, he never let on what a disappointment she was to him.

It was true. Kitten didn't bother to lie to herself about it. Her little, super-less self was not enough to satisfy her father.

Daddy spent a lot of time dealing with other kids, super-powered ones that flew around the city saving people and displaying their super-strength and brains.

Kitten was on the wrestling team at her school. She was in AP classes, and doing well. She was popular; even the girls that hated her had to admit that her face was the most recognizable, and the most liked. Boys lined up to ask her out. Girls alternately talked behind her back and asked her for tips. She didn't mind the two-faced techniques; anyone who ever dared to say that they had never gossiped was doomed to turn around and start gossiping. It was just a fact of life.

Like her failure with her father.

Kitten wasn't a failure. She just wasn't super.

She was really obsessed with it for a while, too. She let her grades slip, dropped out of the wrestling team. She vented on Fang, and she honestly couldn't blame him when he got flaky and broke things off with them. When daddy didn't notice anything out of the ordinary, she took it all out on him.

She didn't like to think about that time these days.

But then she had a revelation. Those super-teens, the ones that took up her daddy's time, were led by a kid called Robin.

And Robin had no super-powers.

He worked hard. His kung-fu was amazing, and his butt was just plain adorable. But he had absolutely no super powers. He just worked hard.

Like her.

She wanted to get in touch. She forced him on a date, and got absolutely no information out of him. As the date progressed, she realized that he wasn't as normal as she had hoped. He didn't seem capable of a basic conversation; he could barely dance. Rather than super, he almost seemed sub-par.

_Not_ the most promising thing she had ever dated. Or realized. Even Robin could be sub-par in something.

So what did that make her?

Anyway, Daddy eventually got out of jail, and things went back to normal.

Well, not really.

Kitten was fed up with school. She switched to a homeschooling program that would let her go at her own pace, also known as twice as fast as the school. She finished her senior project just before her seventeenth birthday, and the counselors told her that it might be a good idea to take a break before applying for college. She was young; surely there were things she wanted to do besides study?

Not really.

She spent a few days sulking. Then she went out and got a membership at the toughest gym she could find. She hired a trainer, and got back into her old routine. She built back the muscle mass she had lost, and added to it; she took up wrestling again, and boxing. She got back in touch with Fang, and they met up every once in a while to touch and to talk. Fang had problems of his own, problems she usually couldn't help him with.

Fang was more around the lines of what daddy probably wanted from her. Well, he probably didn't want a spider-head for a daughter, but at least Fang had abilities. But he whined about them. A lot.

"If he whines so much, then cut it off with him," Jinx said flippantly.

Jinx was her little sister who was very annoying. Kitten tugged her hair.

"Oh, ye who has never had a boyfriend and therefore has no clue what she's talking about," Kitten snipped back to her.

Kitten was secretly very jealous of Jinx. Jinx was powerful, and so graceful.

"You little ballerina," Kitten would say.

Jinx would pull a face. "Yuck! Twirling doesn't do anything. I want a sucker-punch like yours. Then guys wouldn't try to flip my skirt."

"What's wrong with guys flipping your skirt?"

"You're shameless!"

"At least I've got something to be shameless about, you skinny little bug." Kitten would stick out her tongue. "You've got nothing to worry about. You're a tough cookie."

Jinx was probably also daddy's idea of the perfect daughter. He was always so nice whenever Jinx and Angelica came over.

Angelica was her sole motherly influence in her life. Mrs. Keith had left years ago, and hadn't thought to bring Kitten with her. Kitten liked to think that her daddy had fought tooth and claw to keep her, but it was impossible to know because daddy never talked about it.

Angelica liked to stroke her yellowy hair and ask about her day. Daddy sort of did that too, but without the hair stroking. And that was Kitten's favorite part.

Kitten would tell Angelica about school, or the lack of it, and about the gym and her trainer Tyler. Tyler was gay, which was a good thing because he was the sweetest piece of gym-meat Kitten had ever laid eyes on. She had met his boyfriend, and was forced to admit they were a sweet couple. They balanced each other out.

She wasn't always sure what she and Fang did for each other.

"You support each other, dearest," Angelica would say soothingly. "It's hard to find other kids like us."

Angelica and Jinx were very lucky, because they lived at a school full of other kids like them. Daddy had thought about sending Kitten there, but they both agreed that it was largely futile; Kitten wasn't super enough.

But the HIVE kids were fun. Elliot brought her chocolate kisses and wine when she was moody, and Seymour helped her with her English homework when she developed creative blocks. He was a master bull-shitter. And when she was truly miserable, Billy took her out driving.

Billy was another rich kid of the old school, an even older school in fact. He was without a doubt the only kid to whom she could say, "Daddy just bought me a new car for my birthday, and the new Blackberry, but he confiscated it because I stayed out past my curfew. He also knocked my monthly allowance down to just five hundred dollars." He would just nod, not even bat an eye. His dad would have done the same for him if they had been on speaking terms.

The way Billy was with his dad made Kitten very grateful that she and her daddy got along so well.

Only lately they had begun to argue a little bit. Just little spats over dinner, or in the car if she was driving him somewhere. Her daddy was hopeless when it came to cars. Usually their arguments were about college. Kitten would whine that she couldn't sit on her ass forever, she needed to get applications in to Stanford, Yale, the works; he would roar that she should think a little more carefully about where she applied.

"You'd just think he'd be happy," Kitten would complain to Billy, "that his only daughter is qualified to go to those colleges."

"What kind of college does he want you to go to?"

"Community! Or the UC's! Can you believe that? It's like he doesn't think I'm capable of getting into anything beyond California!"

"Well, maybe he wants you to stay local."

She made a face. "Huh?"

"Stanford's a helluva way away. Maybe he doesn't like that. Maybe he wants you to stay where he can see you."

"But that doesn't make sense!"

"Sure it does," Billy said gruffly. "I wanted to get the hell away from my dad, so I looked up a private school all the way out on the west coast. He couldn't stand the idea of hippies and left-wingers, but I put my foot down, and he realized it'd be a good way to get me out of the house. Well, same for you and your dad, only the other way around. You see?"

Kitten did see. Her dad loved her enough that he was willing to destroy her future in order to keep her close to him.

Well, that was kind of super.


	14. Chapter 14

I had to. I just had to. And I enjoyed writing this too much.

I do want to say: I have a lot of respect for psychiatrists. My sister is in a psych class right now, and I'll be taking one next year. I think they do admirable work, however they are incredibly easy to poke fun at, as I have done below. All I've done is make small vignettes from stereotypes and silly ideas. I hope no one takes offense to this chapter, and can just take the humor in the spirit that it's meant.

* * *

**Shrink**

"Now, my dear," Ms. Biel, HIVE's newest student psychiatrist said warmly, "Do you know why you are here?"

Angelica pursed her lips in thought. "Because I am young, impressionable, and obviously confused as to the true value of my existence?"

Ms. Biel's smile grew. They always started out so sarcastic, but in the end they were like her children. "My dear, I do not mean to intrude upon your life. I merely wish to _be here,_" And at that part she leaned over her desk and flashed a particularly warm look at the girl, "So that you know that you have someone to talk to."

"Because obviously my many friends and teachers just don't count," Angelica said agreeably. "I see your point."

"Is there anything you'd like to discuss today?"

"Yes," Angelica composed herself. "I'd like to discuss your resignation notice."

"My dear, I am not going anywhere."

"_Dearest_, I beg to differ," Angelica smiled sweetly, and stood. "If you honestly think that any one of my children is going to impart a single iota of serious thought towards this," And here she flicked about a look of disgust for emphasis, "_m__iniature institute_ you have going here, you have another thought coming."

Ms. Biel smiled. "Well, I think that's all the time we have for today. Until our next meeting, my dear."

"Yes, _dearest_," Angelica tossed her hair over her shoulders as she sauntered out the door. "Until our next meeting."

* * *

"Well," Seymour said, leaning back in his chair. "I guess everything started when I was five. My dad started beating me for no apparent reason except that it pleased him to do so, and my mom didn't lift a finger to help me. It made sense; he would have just beaten her too. She started sleeping around, and she'd bring home boyfriends when dad was off on "business trips". One of her boyfriends turned out to be bisexual, or just a freak, and he started raping me. She dumped him eventually, but he began following me home from school and taking me in alleyways with his gay friends and I'd be gang-raped on an almost daily basis. I tried to tell my parents, but my dad thought I was lying and my mom thought I was trying to rat on her extra-curricular activities, and she started beating me too. My only comfort in life was the thought that one day, some how, I would buy a really cool gun and blow the crap out of all of them. I guess that's why I came to HIVE; I wanted to get the power and knowledge to get revenge on the entire world, every man woman and child, because they are all responsible in part for my pain." 

Seymour glanced carefully across the room. Ms. Biel had stopped taking his dictations somewhere after the words "bisexual, or", and was staring at him in amazement. He stood.

"So, now that I've covered all of your expectations of me, I think I'll be going," He said, giving her a sardonic look as he left.

* * *

"Wow," Xilo said as soon as he stepped into the office. "It's true. Everything they said is true."

Ms. Biel raised her eyebrows. "What is true, dear?"

"This is a _total_ head-shrink. I can feel my head shrinking already. I think I'm losing brain molecules," Xilo grimaced. "I'd better leave."

And he did.

* * *

"I'm not sure I understand why I'm here," Jinx confessed. "Did I do something wrong?" 

"No, my dear," said Ms. Biel. "I'm just here in case you want to talk---"

"About what? What is there to talk about? Did I do something? Is something wrong with me?" She clutched her hands over her under-sized breasts and dropped her voice to a dramatically pitiful whisper. "Do you think I'm crazy?"

"No, my dear," said Ms. Biel. "But this is a difficult time for girls your age."

"It doesn't seem any more difficult then it was before. Oh!" Jinx gasped. "Is that weird? Am I weird? Is it going to get harder? Oh, I'm so confused!"

Before Ms. Biel could interject, Jinx continued, "I'm not like other girls. I'm _strange_. I always have been. There is something really is wrong with me, isn't there? My hair, my clothes---_no_ other girl I know likes punk!---and my eyes are so freaky. I'm so ugly! I'll never get a boyfriend! I'll never go on a date! I'll never have sex, or get married, or have a million beautiful healthy babies, and then grandkids, and great grandkids! I'll never have a happy place where people accept me for who I am, where I can be myself as I never have been before! Oh, what is it for? What is it all for? WHAT IS THE MEANING OF LIFE?" She ran out of the room, screaming and bawling until she was sure Ms. Biel was out of earshot.

* * *

"Now, Mr. Frinze-Perez---" 

"Just call me Bailey, ma'am. Assuming, of course, that I can call you Jessica?"

Ms. Biel beamed across her desk at the boy. "If that makes you comfortable, my dear. Everything that takes place in this room should be within the confines of your comfort."

"Excellent. I appreciate that, Jessica, truly. I feel that adults are too much in the habit of talking down to those younger than them. I mean, we're all intelligent people here, right?"

"Yes, dear."

"Do you mind if I smoke?" Bailey asked, pulling out a twist of something.

Ms. Biel stared at the thing in his hand. "Is that a joint?"

"Yep. I find it makes me more comfortable. And this whole thing _is_ about me being comfortable, right Jessica?" Bailey beamed across the desk at Ms. Biel. "Would you like one for yourself?"

* * *

"You want to know something about me?" Montego said. "I don't trust women." 

"Do you feel that you have been…badly used by women? A bad experience in a relationship, perhaps?"

Montego nodded slowly. "You could call it that."

"Would you feel comfortable explaining it to me?"

Montego looked her up and down carefully. "You know, I think I do. I think might be comfortable talking to you."

Ms. Biel tried not to look too proud. "Take your time."

Montego took a deep breath. "I trusted her, you know? Put up with everything: the missed calls, the annoying friends. I didn't keep any secrets. I would have done _anything_ for her. I would have stolen her a million diamonds, I would have killed the president, I would have let loose the H-bomb. _Anything_. I put my heart on a fucking platter for her, and what did she do?" He stood, roaring, "WHAT DID SHE DO? Fucking rejected me!" He over turned the desk, sending papers flying. "Who can be worth loving in this world after her? She was the ONE!"

Ms. Biel backed up against the wall. "Montego---"

"And who says you're worth any more than she was? What's to stop me from taking _this fist_," He held up his fist, "And smashing it in _your face_? What's to stop me from _killing you_?"

Ms. Biel quivered. Montego leaned in close so they were nose to nose.

"Women. Are not. Worth. It."

He took a deep breath, and stepped back. Ms. Biel slumped to the ground. Montego smiled.

"You know what? I feel a lot better. This has really helped. _Thanks._"

* * *

"So, I understand that you have been here since you were eight years old," Ms. Biel glanced up across her desk at Elliot. 

Elliot stared at her.

"I also understand that you're quite the musical genius," She continued. "Is it true that you can play anything on the piano after listening to it only once?"

Elliot stared at her.

"Have you written any compositions?"

Elliot stared at her.

"Do you ever feel that you have a difficult time communicating with others? Is that why you're so passionate about music? Is that how you express yourself?"

Elliot reached over for her notebook and pen, and Ms. Biel watched with interest as he scribbled something down. He handed it back to her with a small smile and left.

He had drawn a caricature of her in a padded room, strapped in a strait jacket, cross-eyed and laughing absurdly.

* * *

"You see, I always wanted a dog," Billy explained. "I mean, I come from a rich family, a---pardon my French---_fucking_ rich family. I hate to soil this room with profanity, but that's just the only way to express how truly rich my family was…is. Whatever." 

Ms. Biel nodded slowly. "That's all right, William. I make no judgments based on one's vocabulary."

"Thank you, Ms. Biel. I truly appreciate that. But, you see, you'd think with all that money my dad would just cave in and get me a dog, right? I'm his son. It's really all I ever asked from him. You'd think a kind, considerate father would just get me a damn dog for my birthday one year. He had a bunch of them running around the property. Well," Billy snorted, "He had a bunch of _everything_ running around the property. I mean women, "He explained when Ms. Biel raised an eyebrow. "Lots. Enough to repopulate the earth with, and let me tell you something, he pretty much has.

"But, obviously, I never got a dog for _any _birthday," Billy shook his head. "And it's scarred me for life."

Ms. Biel took a quick note, and encouraged him to continue.

"Because, you see, if my dad doesn't love me enough to give me a dog, then who loves me enough to give me _anything_ in life? Obviously, this world is filled with hate and confusion. I used to think about killing myself, just so I wouldn't have to live a life of disappointment on this awful planet."

Ms. Biel tsked sympathetically.

"But I've stopped thinking like that," Billy said proudly. "I've stopped cutting, and burning, and smoking. I've stopped drinking until I make myself sick. I've stopped swallowing as many pills as I can fit into my mouth at one time. I've stopped crashing cars on purpose, hoping I'll die in the smoking, burning wreckage, too mangled to be recognizable to my friends if they bother to see if I'm living or dead. I'm taking the high road. I'm done with that stuff."

Ms. Biel nodded approvingly.

"So, instead, I'm going to concentrate on making the rest of the world more miserable than me. Because, you see, that way I'll come out on top as the happiest guy, because I'll be the one causing things, and that makes me happy. It's a good plan, don't you think?"

* * *

"I just don't understand," Ms. Biel said, forehead resting on her arms. "I came here to be helpful. I like helping people. Is that so wrong?" 

Across the desk, Vito tsked and wrote something down on Ms. Biel's notebook. "Not at all, my dear. Helping people is a good thing to do."

"I think so, too."

"Maybe you're just not good at it. Maybe you should just reconsider your life and find some _other_ way to help people," Vito tapped Ms. Biel's pen against her notebook. "Maybe you should join Greenpeace."

"I'm a failure at life!" Ms. Biel wailed.

"No, you're not," Vito said kindly. "You're just a failure at this _part_ of life. But maybe you won't fail quite as badly at everything else. I'm sure there's an occupation for people like you…" He frowned thoughtfully as he tried to think of one, "_Somewhere_."

* * *

"Children," Professor Nanson drawled. "The school psychiatrist has quit. Again. Her replacement, Mr. Anderson, will arrive next Monday. Let's see if we can't make him last for something longer than a week, huh?" 

Seymour turned around in his seat and said to Billy, "I want to do the "dad never gave me a dog" story this time."

"Take it," said Billy. "I hate that story. I hate dogs. And _you_ missy," He said to Jinx. "You better practice your bit. That was the most unconvincing wailing I've ever heard in my life."

"Like you could do any better!" Jaya snapped back.

"Maybe _you _should take the "childhood abuse" bit," Seymour suggested, "And I'll take the "meaning of life" one."

"I like my story," Jaya stuck out her tongue. "Besides, it's better when you do it. Sexually abused girls are a dime a dozen these days. Sexually abused boys bring out more sympathy."

"That's true," Seymour admitted.

Montego snarled. "If I have to do that stupid "abused lover" bit one more time…"

"We could trade," Bailey said lightly. "I'll give you a joint, and _you_ can light up."

Montego shook his head, disgusted. "If it was a cigar, maybe."

"Cigars have no impact."

"They have fiber glass in them," Montego grumbled. "That ought to count for something."

"Look, no matter which way you cut it, cigars lose out when faced with marijuana. It's just a fact!"

Angelica stared down her nose at Bailey. "Keep talking like that and I'm going to cut your bit."

"But then how I would psyche Mr. Anderson out?"

"Make up a stupid one-liner," Xilo shrugged. "It's easier than the things you guys come up with."

Bailey shook his head. "It's not putting in full effort. You're skating by on virtually nothing."

"Well, why should I engage in a conversation with one of those…those…"

Elliot slid a drawing in his direction. It was a donkey with glasses and a notebook.

"Yeah, sure," Xilo showed the picture to the others. "What he said. Drew. Whatever."

"Is this honestly necessary?" Professor Nanson asked. "I mean, I appreciate free speech and scorn for authority, but you guys are causing budget cuts up the wazoo. They're talking about cutting down my pay again."

"To what? A measly five hundred thousand a year?" Vito scoffed. "I think you'll live."

Nanson directed a scathing look in the direction of Vito's voice. "Cute. One of these days, you kids will realize there are bigger things to worry about in the world then getting people fired."

"Wow, Professor, it sounds like you have a lot of problems," Angelica cooed, wide-eyed with concern. "Maybe you should see a psychiatrist?"


	15. Chapter 15

Based off of a rather interesting in-class discussion that recently took place at school. I won't say what my feelings are on the subject…to be honest, I'm not sure I even have a concrete opinion on the subject, except that I wish everybody would calm down and talk about it reasonably, which is exactly what doesn't happen in the chapter below. I tried to spread the love for all sides, and if anyone is offended by how the subject was treated…well, that's my point. High school-aged students have no tact.

* * *

**The Civil Rights Movement**

Contrary to popular belief, the HIVE students were victims of standardized tests as well. Benchmarks, CAHSEE, you name it, they took it. The teachers said this was because they had to complete their school's image of a private academy, and even private academies took standardized tests sometimes. The truth of it was that as long as a test was underway, the teachers could have a little free time. Sometimes they even visited each other's classes.

Which was why Professor Nanson was uncorking a bottle of wine for Professor Pandora as she led the class through the usual paraphernalia of filling in their information.

Billy raised his hand and said, in a voice that meant business, "I have an issue I'd like to discuss with you."

"You say that like that's new," Professor Nanson drawled. "You should raise your hand to announce that you _don't_ have an issue in the future."

Billy ignored him. "Professor, I cannot accurately describe my race on this test."

Seymour stood, already knowing where this was going. "Dude, the Civil Rights movement--"

"Obviously ignored the common Caucasian man," Billy cut him off neatly. "Last time I checked, I was a race, not a color."

"Not that you'd be able to tell or anything," Jinx pointed out sweetly, tapping the corner of one eye in allusion to his horrible eyesight. Billy scowled at her.

"See, because of all those years of slavery and stuff, the black man is always on your case," Seymour explained cheerfully, "And we like to get back at you in small, annoying ways, like labeling you as the only color on the standardized tests."

"For your information," Bailey said coolly, "White people were the first slaves."

"Bullsh…that's bull!" Seymour corrected himself quickly with a glance towards the professors.

"It's not. Hello, the _Jews," _Bailey snorted. "Moses down in Egypt, all going "Let my people go!" Wasn't that slavery?"

"It's true," Billy put in. "They used to talk about that in church."

And since no one else besides Billy had ever been to church, the point was undisputable.

"And black people even practiced slavery amongst themselves anyway," Bailey continued, "so what was the big freaking deal that white people could recognize a good thing when they saw it? It's not like the blacks complained. Hell, they starting selling _each other_."

"That is completely backwards," said Montego. "You might as well say it's cool to gas Jews just because Hitler did it."

"Or that he stopped too soon," Vito muttered. He had always felt an obligation, as an Italian, to speak on behalf of the Axel powers.

Jinx reached over and pinched him. Billy rolled his eyes and looked across the room at Angelica.

Angelica uncrossed her long legs and sat up in her desk. "Actually, I agree with Billy. It's rather silly that they go to the trouble of naming off all the Pacific Islands and neglect the entirety of Europe in the process."

"But white is all encompassing!" Seymour protested.

Angelica shrugged. "So is black. But they have you down as African-Americans. And while you're at it, you might as well simplify all those Asian categories down to just "yellow", and Mexicans can be "brown". I mean, why just one race? That's silly. This is blatant racism."

"They can dish it out, but they can't take it," Seymour muttered.

Angelica rounded on him, golden eyes flashing. "I was born in 1988. Black people had voting rights, respect, and all around healthy lifestyles by the time I came on this earth, and that goes for you too. I'm not responsible for anything prior to my existence--and please don't start lecturing us on the importance of history right now, Professor, because it's just a load of _bullshit_!"

Professor Pandora laughed musically and said, "If this color thing bothers everyone so much, than why don't you all just mark "other"?"

Seymour rolled his eyes. "Because we're not an other, we're a--"

"Yes, yes, yes, civil rights, I know. Let me tell you something, children, civil rights are a myth. History is nothing more than a series of one country dominating over another--"

"Along with religious dogma, political intrigue, and sex every night, _thank_ you Professor, you've told us before," Angelica snapped.

"My dear," the professor purred. "Snapping is most unattractive."

Angelica flushed scarlet and sank a little in her desk. Montego and Bailey exchanged looks behind her back. Billy leaned over to Bailey and said, "That got big."

"You've got yourself to blame for that," Bailey muttered back.

"What you kids have got to understand is, you're living in California, which is probably the most diverse state of the fifty," Professor Nanson put in. "Angelica, you were born in Los Angelos. Billy, you were sheltered from anything lower than high-high class, and that's all white people. Bailey, I'm surprised you _don't_ know better, but since you don't, I'll just tell you: there are still race issues. We can't see them here. We're next door neighbors to _Sacramento_, for crying out loud, and that's as liberal as it gets."

"But they make rules about those things," Angelica said peevishly. "The Jim Crowe laws and such, those are all gone. They even crossed out bits of the Constitution, which was frankly rather juvenile. They might have well just rewritten it to include a bunch of racial equality things."

"Yeah, well, who follows the rules?" Vito asked. "I mean, seriously."

"My point is, there is still heavy debate in terms of race," said Professor Nanson, "and the last thing anybody needs is a bunch of whiny white kids crowding in going, "What about me? How come I'm not the center of attention anymore?", okay? Or else it'd be the sixties all over again."

"Yeah, but those were the _poor_ white kids," Billy sneered.

"Oh, so now you're racist against your own kind? Mr. Jones, I can't say I'm surprised."

"Look, all _I'm_ trying to say is, every race at some time has had shit to deal with," Bailey interrupted loudly. "Blacks and Mexicans and stuff just happen to be the most recent thing. And it sucks that it happened at all, but people just need to suck it up and deal with it. Like, whatever."

"Suck it up and deal with it?" Seymour repeated acidly. "How? Most of them don't have the money, the education, the opportunities--"

"Most of them just aren't interested," Jaya said, her first real contribution to the discussion. "You get some of those in every race."

Seymour glared at her, amazed. "I can't believe you're not backing me up on this. You're a minority too!"

Jaya shrugged. "Sorry, but you're sounding really "Malcom X" right now. It's creeping me out."

"And what was wrong with Malcom X?" Seymour demanded.

"He was an asshole," said Vito. "And he was totally brainwashed. That Muhammad guy played him like Dominoes, and half of his own race hated him anyway. You can't start a racial revolution with his attitude."

"But he did, though!"

Through all of this, Xilo had been fast asleep at his desk. At one particularly loud comment he woke with a start, looked around, and finally asked Billy what the hell was going on. Billy explained it all as clearly as he could, and when he was finished, Xilo shook his head.

"Your planet is so retarded," He said, and he put his head back down on his desk and went back to sleep.


	16. Chapter 16

This is ripped off from this totally awesome thing I saw on youtube, only fixed to fit the circumstances. Catherine Tate, you're my new hero! Go watch the original sketch; it's got David Tennant and gratuitous Dr. Who jokes.

With apologies to Confederates everywhere. I have every respect in the world for you. Seymour, however, does not.

EDIT: Typos, and one or two more jokes!

* * *

**The Substitute Saga**

It was on one unfortunate day that Professor Moore took ill, and a rather pompous temp from one of the Carolinas took over the class for what was supposed to be a week. Xilo's suggestion to shoot the man down was promptly denied, and so far the womanly charms Angelica had been practically rubbing all over his face had been ignored, prompting Billy to suggest that the man was a homosexual, prompting Jaya to kick him in the shin and ask what the hell was wrong with that.

He introduced himself as Mr. Water. The class responded with their usual, "Alright…"

It was Seymour, finally, having sat through Mr. Water's introduction to Shakespeare, Seymour who stood up and said, "Excuse me, but are you English?"

Mr. Water looked vaguely annoyed, but drew himself up proudly and said,"No. I am American."

"So you're not English."

"I _speak_ English."

"So you're not English," Seymour nodded grimly. "So what exactly qualifies you to _teach_ English? I don't think you're qualified."

"Young man--"

"Our usual teacher is English. Our usual teacher is more English than it gets. She drinks tea right in front of us. She says things like "innit" and "heaven's sake" and "isn't that a larf" and stuff. Do you eat hot dogs and fried Twinkies and stuff, on account of you being American?"

"Listen, you--"

"Thanksgiving and things like that, you do all that? Those pilgrims were cannibals, you know. Ate the Indians right out of the ground. We put it to a vote a while ago."

Mr. Water sighed. "Your name is Seymour Evans, isn't it?"

The rest of the class "oohed" at the upcoming threat, and Seymour grinned. "Maybe."

"Well, your reputation precedes you."

"Does it? Well, when the real Evans gets in here, I'll be sure to let him know. So, do you do barbecues? Like, the really gross, high calorie ones? I can only assume, on account of you being American."

"Young man, from the way you talk, it sounds as if you are _also_ American."

Seymour whistled. "Wow. I guess _neither_ of us are qualified to have anything to do with English, huh? Especially not _Shakespeare_."

Mr. Water growled. "Page twenty-three, class."

"When they do those reenactments of the Civil War, are you with the greys or the blues? They both suck anyway, I'm only wondering."

"Right, that's it," Mr. Water's face turned pink. "You, sir, are getting a warning."

"A _warning_?" Seymour looked around the class. "Did you guys here that? This fool's serious. A _warning_. Can I have that in _English_, sir?"

"Evans--"

"Am I bothered?" Seymour demanded.

Mr. Water went from pink to red. "You should be!"

"But am I? Like, look at my face. Do I look bothered? Do I look bothered to you?" He turned to the class. "Any takers? Am I bothered? Bite your thumb at me, sir, but am I bothered?"

"Doesn't look like it," Jaya sing songed.

Seymour turned back to Mr. Water. "There, you see. Not bothered. Obviously, you are not doing your job. Obviously, you are not qualified to teach English. Obviously, you need to get your ass out of this classroom before the Union marches in and hauls your Confederate ass to the land of justice. You going to give me reparations, dude? You probably owned my ancestors."

"Hey," Billy said mildly from his seat towards the back. "Don't knock the god damn Confederates."

"I will deal with you later!" Seymour shouted over his shoulder, and turning back to Mr. Water, said, "So, I'd like fifty grand flat across the table. Though money shall never be enough to heal the wound, if you know what I mean, 'massah'. Old Lee really had you going, huh? Would have followed him all the way to white Jesus, right? Would you have taken me along? I heard some slave owners did that. Saving the heathens and all. Real righteous of you."

"Seymour Evans--"

"We're not reading any Othello, are we? You know, I hella take offense to that. Damn white guys smacking down the hard-working black soldier. Like how they did in the Civil War. I've seen "Glory", sir, and let me tell you, Matthew Broderick was an ass. However, Denzel's performance was exceptionally--"

"That's it, I don't need to take this!"

"You don't need to, but you are. Did you sew a Confederate flag in your underwear? I hear patriots do that sometimes."

"You--"

"Am I bothered?"

Mr. Water's face was well purple now, and his finger shook as he pointed at Seymour and cried, "OFFICE! NOW!"

"But am I bothered?"

"You are the most IRRITATING person I have ever had to deal with!"

"Thanks, but am I bothered?"

It was eventually Mr. Water himself who went to the office, and was sent to Dr. Anderson, who was in the middle of what was to be his three-month stay at HIVE. Dr. Anderson later confided to Seymour that the man had been apoplectic and nearing a fatal heart attack due to years of gratuitous barbecue, and congratulated the boy on a job well done.

When Professor Moore recovered and returned, she made a point of telling Seymour that either she was going to give him more homework, or he was going to need to stop watching so many Catherine Tate comedy sketches on YouTube.


	17. Chapter 17

Once again, the HIVE and I share very few views and opinions.

Oh, and watch out for language in this one.

* * *

**Vernacular**

**Or**

**Cyborg Meme #1**

It was inevitable that the HIVE students, having grown up apart from acceptable society and social trends, would develop a language of their own. Just as "hecka tight" had become a normal expression of self in northern California, the HIVE children, through over-exposure to twisted logic and over-the-top in-depth analysis, had cultivated their very own vernacular.

Cyborg, having been dumped in their midst with no warning, was hard-pressed to learn anything and everything as soon as possible, and ended up writing a miniature dictionary used specifically for the HIVE:

1. "That is a Fact."

A Fact was a piece of information that was agreed upon by the known world, such as "Sir Ian McKellen is gay. " However, a fact was subject to manipulation such as:

One day Billy and Seymour got into an argument over whether or not Sir Ian McKellen was actually gay. Seymour believed that Ian was indeed homosexual and cool for broadcasting that to the world, while Billy insisted that it was just a publicity stunt done by an old fart on his way out of the business. It was Vito who finally went onto the Internet and pulled up various articles on the subject of the actor's work for gays and lesbians, which proved, in the minds of the class as a whole, that yes, Sir Ian McKellen was pulling a fast one even if he was gay, because, after all, that much publicity over one man's sexuality was just retarded.

And so, "Sir Ian McKellen is gay, and using it to further postpone his retirement in the field of acting," became a Truth.

2. "That is a Truth."

A Truth was something agreed upon by the HIVE, which made it a Fact that they respected and would not manipulate or ever argue about, such as:

One day Seymour noticed that Vito had been throwing around several psychiatric terms, such as "Oedipus complex," "dysthymia," "dyspareunia," and so on, as of late. When confronted, Vito confessed that he had been reading up on the subject and found it quite interesting, inspiring Seymour to name him a traitor to his own kind. In his defense, Vito simply said:

"Know Thy Freaking Enemy,"

Which just about everyone could agree was a rather smart thing to do. And so, "Know Thy Freaking Enemy" became another HIVE Truth.

3. "Fuck Me With a Gun."

A rather coarse phrase invented by Billy when he felt that "Shoot me," was losing its sting. Angelica hated it, and Billy was never allowed to say it in her presence, which meant that he used it incessantly when she was not around. For example:

One day, when Angelica was skipping gym due to a mysterious illness (aka bulimia), Coach Faeh announced that the class would be going through the obstacle course. Billy, who was severely hung over from a party he and Johnny had crashed, replied with, "Aw, fuck me with a gun, coach!" and was given detention for insubordination.

4. "Dante's Inferning it."

Somewhat similar to "beating a dead horse", "Dante's Inferning it," referred to a useless assignment, such as stealing information from a super-top secret facility or purposely luring out the Titans in order to plant a device or take a valuable item or simply for observation; something useless and with no foreseeable satisfactory ending that the students were forced into against their will, usually by Brother Blood. Inspired by Professor Moore's obsession with Dante's Inferno.

5. "I give that (insert number) Bloods."

A rating of the excessive drama of an event or a person's behavior, measured in "Bloods", derived from the annoying maverick himself. For instance:

When a guest speaker came in to talk to the children about AIDS and safe sex, Angelica was very sarcastic and rated the man ten Bloods for his excessive "I just want you to have a long and healthy life," antics.

6. "I give that (insert number) Slades."

A rating of the diabolical and devious extent of an event or a person's behavior, measured in "Slades", derived from the mastermind himself. Such as:

When the HIVE students realized that their new psychiatrist Dr. Anderson was going to be staying with them for longer than the usual grace period they usually allowed their new doctors to enjoy, Vito rated the man as seven Slades, as it was obvious that this was a man who knew what was up.

7. "I give that (insert number) Lights."

A rating of the lameness of an event or a person's behavior, measured in "Lights", derived from the loser himself. Such as:

When the children learned that Brother Blood was cutting their spring break in half, Jinx rated the bitch move as twenty Lights.

Or:

Once, Seymour caught himself rating the lameness of Dr. Light himself in Lights, which he found highly ironic.

8. "Not our business."

Referring to anything and everything the HIVE children felt they didn't want to get tangled up in. For instance:

When Seymour noticed Angelica and Jaya were spending more and more girl time together and wanted to know what they were talking about, the other boys insisted that it was not their business.

9. "That was so, totally not my fault."

Usually referring to something that was indeed the speaker's fault.

10. "…not that we'd, you know, _know_ about that or anything."

Usually referring to something the speaker did indeed know about.

11. "That's a crime."

A rather ironic phrase, referring to something that was not a crime but the HIVE knew, in their expert opinions, ought to be.

12. "Fucking (insert group) people."

Referring to any sect or group of people that happened to be annoying the HIVE. For example:

When he learned that French people were to blame for the over-the-top mystery films their history teacher loved to make them watch, Billy cried, "Fucking French people!"

The list went on and on for several pages, and once Cyborg was out of the HIVE he found himself hard-pressed to find a reason to keep his memoirs. But he did, in the event that one day he or posterity might benefit from their insight and wisdom.


	18. Chapter 18

Long-overdue update for this one! Darn school. Not much Elliot in this one, planning to write another...soon, hopefully. We'll see.

* * *

**Wicked Scary: The Second Viewing**

Angelica turned off the TV, and glanced about the room. The group of them seemed frozen in their seats, and she said, "Well?"

"Well, first of all," said Vito, "They were all idiots."

"I think that's a requirement for these kinds of movies," Seymour said weakly.

"Well, that sucks," said Vito, "because it completely ruined everything."

"The main girl was hot," said Billy, trying to make the best of things.

"Yeah, especially when he was chasing her though the park, and she broke her leg and got her face ripped up and--seriously, Billy? Was that a turn on for you?" Vito snapped. "Is that what you like?"

"I just meant--"

"Is that what you do with girls at those parties? Chase them across parks and rape them?"

"I was talking about the beginning of the--"

"Is that why Heather stopped calling you? Did you kill her?"

"The main chick looked like Tina Fey, all right? Can you blame me for that?"

To the side, Elliot was nodding in agreement and gave a thumbs up. Jaya punched his arm.

"The effects were completely fake," Seymour cut in. "I could see the spirit gum they used to paste those wounds on his face."

"Oh," said Jaya, frowning. "I couldn't. Thanks a lot."

"Whatever, we all know it was just a movie."

Angelica had wandered back to her seat between Montego and Bailey with renewed humility. She murmured with as much grace as she could muster, "Well, I think movie night was a bit of a bust. Shall we go ahead and call it the last time we do that?"

"No, it's just the last time you get to pick the movie," said Montego. Bailey laughed and handed Angelica her drink, from which she drank deeply.

Xilo tugged on Billy's sleeve. "So I take it the…the park scene _isn't_ what typically happens on a date."

"What? No! No, you just…you just hook up at a party and get a room. Hopefully not the parents' room, 'cause they get really anal about the mess you make in there." He laughed suddenly. "No pun intended."

"Then what were they doing at that restaurant beforehand?"

"Oh, well that was like…it's like bribery. If you take a girl out to dinner, it means she _has_ to do everything you want later. It's just what you do if you don't have enough to get the room with her on your own merits."

"Oh, really," Angelica leaned forward towards Billy, narrowing her golden eyes. "Tell me more about this fascinating perspective you have on dating, Billy."

Billy laughed nervously. "Well, it's just that--"

"What _did_ happen to Heather, anyway?"

"Uh--"

"Four stars," Vito said bitterly. "Four freaking stars. Can you believe that? What idiot gave this movie four stars?"

"Apparently the Teen Titans endorsed it," said Seymour, reading the DVD cover. "It says here: "This re-released, all-new, bonus-feature special-edition package has been given a HUGE thumbs up by..." yadda yadda yadda, and then "local heroes Teen Titans" and so on. They _liked_ this? And people say _we're_ the source of all evil? Like, double-you tee eff?"

"Well, I wish we'd known that _before we started watching the stupid thing!"_ yelled Vito. "That was two and a half hours I'm never getting back! We might as well have watched Scary Movie Three!"

"So, officially," Jaya stretched and put her head on Elliot's shoulder, "Wicked Scary is the worst movie ever."

And through all of this, Cyborg sat very quietly and didn't comment. And resolved not to comment when he got back to the Titans.

He tried to keep in mind that the HIVE didn't have a Raven to reckon with after viewing Wicked Scary.

He still couldn't help but feel like a slight wuss.


	19. Chapter 19

An event alluded to but never yet written…until now! No Elliot in this chapter, either, sorry. He's taking a sick day. :) Just wait, he'll get better soon...

* * *

**The Substitute Saga Part Two**

Seymour woke up gasping, kicking Jaya in the process. She kicked back, still asleep. He kicked back even harder, still muddled from only having just woken up. They proceeded to enter, consciously or unconsciously, a vicious kicking war, and it was a good thing no one was wearing their usual set of combat boots or there might have been some real damage.

As it was, they limped to breakfast, bickering over who had bought the Pink Floyd shirt Jaya had claimed as her own and whether or not it was really punk since Johnny Rotten had hated Pink Floyd, and whether or not Johnny Rotten really had hated Pink Floyd or if it had just been a front to prove he was punk. When they got to the table, Angelica indignantly demanded why Jaya was not wearing make up.

"I left all my kit in my room," said Jaya, "And I just didn't feel like doing it today."

"Well, I'm sure there were days when Sid Vicious and Johnny Rotten and whatsisname "didn't feel like doing it", but they did it anyway and I expect you to as well. Go get your kit and I'll do it for you."

When she had gone, Seymour dropped into the seat nearest Angelica and said, "I had the craziest dream last night."

Across the table, Montego and Bailey exchanged looks. Angelica didn't look too happy herself. But she encouraged him to share, and he launched into the story:

"So, we all got into fifth period and there was a substitute with this really horrible, clashing outfit and bad hair and teeth who said he was the substitute, and that he didn't believe in orthodox courses and wanted us to think outside the box. Then he pressed the jewel on his cane and this big screen came down---see, and here's the thing, he'd rigged up the whole classroom with all these screens and wires and flying bits, and when I tried to say something to Jaya she just got really pissed off and told me to stop making things up, the room looked weird enough as it was---and then everybody got really quiet, but I couldn't see what was so cool about the screen, and then _he_ get pissed off and told me to behave, and I was like, "Dude, I haven't even done anything yet," and he started monologuing about how much he hated Americans, like it was relevant or something. Or maybe he was just mad because I called him dude, I don't really remember.

"So then I was like, "Wow, this sucks, no way is this lasting the period," and none of you guys were backing me up and it really sucked. And the whole class went like that, with you guys freaking out because you were seeing weird stuff and me not seeing it and this guy having an issue with America. Oh! And then there was this one part, and the book was trying to eat somebody's hand, and I was like, "Dude, that's totally ripped off from Harry Potter, why can't British people have an original idea," and then he got REALLY mad and was trying to attack me with what everybody else said was raptors or something, only I STILL couldn't see them and he got really pissed off and then the class period was over and he had to let us go. And you guys were still freaked out, and I was laughing because he wanted to give me detention but he couldn't because substitutes can't give detention, and it was cool."

"Dearest," said Angelica, "That wasn't a dream. That was our substitute, Mr. Madison, and we've got him again today. You really couldn't see the flying goblins or the freak-screen?"

"Um…no," said Seymour. "No, I couldn't."

"It was only optical illusions," said Vito from where he was hidden behind a large book on that exact subject. "And since he has his freaky-super-amazing eyesight, he was just looking straight at the bits and pieces behind the special effects, not the special effects themselves. Is my theory, anyway."

"Oh. Great. So, we're ditching fifth period then," said Seymour.

"No, we're attending. All of us," said Angelica.

Seymour, and Billy and Xilo who had overheard her further down the table, turned to stare at her. She shrugged, oblivious. "He's in the middle of a successfully career. We could learn something. Jaya, there you are, dear. Come here and let me do your eyes." Jaya complied very sweetly, only stopping to push Seymour out of his seat so she could be near her mother.

"Somehow I doubt makeup is going to protect her from brain damage," said Billy.

"No, but this will," Vito laid his book flat out on the table. "Say "mongoose" over and over while we're in class. That should do the trick."

"Mongoose is going to protect us from brain damage," Seymour repeated flatly.

"Well, you have nothing to worry about, you can see through it."

Seymour turned to Bailey and Montego. "Help. Please."

Bailey shrugged. "Ditch if you feel you have to." Montego punched his arm and Angelica glared at him, and he quickly added, "We'd prefer it if you didn't, of course. But you do have free will."

There was a sickening cracking sound from the other end of the table. Angelica turned, knocking over a tablet of eyeshadows which spilled powder all over the table. "Billy!"

Billy held up his hand. The fingers were each broken and twisted. Xilo looked rather proud of himself. Billy grinned weakly as well. "Can't write with a broken hand. Guess I can't go to class. Free will."

"Well, thank goodness you have until fifth period," Angelica said coldly. "Dr. Moore will have you fixed in no time and you can join us again."

"Way to waste a perfectly good excuse for absence," Seymour added under his breath, and Billy aimed a kick in his direction as he stomped off to Dr. Moore's office.

"Everybody's kicking me today," Seymour whined.

Jaya stuck her tongue out at him. "You started it."

"If I faint sometime around lunch, do you think they'd let me stay out of class?"

"I've told you both, the next time either of you fake a fainting spell you'll catch it," said Angelica.

"Yes, but how would you know if I was fainting? I've fainted for real before. If you were wrong, you'd be a bad mother."

"I'd know if it was for real because I'd tickle you, and you'd react. Now hush and eat something, please."

"I can't eat anything if I plan to faint before lunch!"

"You say that like it's guaranteed…"

The argument continued well into first period, and was finally cut short when Professor Pandora announced that they were being silly because yesterday's substitute had been fired. When asked for the reason, she said:

"Foul play, and that's all I'm telling you."

It wasn't until sixth period, after sitting through a woman obsessed with ducks, that Professor Nanson explained the situation.

"Apparently there was a bit of a fuss about one of the younger students who had detention," He said, popping a whole tube of Smarties in his mouth. "The sub got a little too personal."

"What was he doing proctoring a detention? Substitutes can't even _give _detention. Why weren't any of the real faculty there?"

Nanson shrugged. "We had better things to do. Dr. Moore swore he had invented a better kind of alcohol, and we wanted to try it."

"And?" Billy demanded. Angelica had been right; Dr. Moore had had his hand fixed up before second period. "Was it better?"

"Tasted like the old stuff to me. But we might be able to pass it under the radar as cough medicine, and then we could start drinking it in class." Nanson frowned. "Or maybe it was just cough medicine…"

"Who was the student?" said Angelica. "Is he alright?"

"One of the little ones. He'll get over it. If he didn't want to get into something like that, he shouldn't have gotten detention, should he?"

"True that," said Billy, but then Billy tended to agree with everything Professor Nanson said.

"Just be happy your substitute wasn't into older students and be grateful. Page seventy-three, shall we?"

From that day forth, the HIVE did their best to avoid Mad Mod. They were even a little bit sympathetic when they heard about the trouble the Titans got into with him. Not enough to tell them about "mongooses", of course, but sympathetic none the less.


	20. Chapter 20

Oh, ALLpraiseb2Him, you never let me down! Thanks for the message!

* * *

**Graduated-But-Not-Really**

"So they were just kidding about graduating early?" Billy asked innocently.

Jaya kept her gaze fixed solid on Seymour, who was writing out the math problem. "Something like that."

"And how long are you guys staying?"

"Don't know."

"Well, damn," Xilo laughed, propping his feet up in front of Jaya's nose. "Just when we thought we were done with you."

"Like Nick Hopper," Billy added.

"Man, was that a relief. So many blizzards. And now everybody thinks we're experiencing global warming? Why are humans so retarded?"

"Global warming is real, asshole," Seymour snapped over his shoulder.

"I'm waiting for evidence," said Billy.

"Dude, there's hella evidence. Check this out," Seymour pulled out his communicator and dialed up Elliot. "Hey, come down from topside for a second."

Elliot appeared beside him wearing jeans and a thin t-shirt. Seymour pointed at the shirt. "Gentlemen, is it or is it not October?"

"It's October. I think," Billy turned in his seat to Angelica, who was walking by. "Angelica, is it October?"

She raised her eyebrows over her book. "Mm, that's nice dear." She somehow managed to find the door she wanted and continue her reading of Candide. Before she left, she looked up over her book at Jaya as if she intended to say something, but when their eyes met she shrugged and continued on her way.

Billy turned back to the others and shrugged. "I'll take that as a yes."

"And look at what he's wearing!" Seymour plucked at Elliot's shirt.

"I always thought Elliot was generally impervious to the cold, anyway," Jaya commented lightly as she dug through Seymour's backpack. "Where are your notes? I need to catch up in this class."

Seymour glared at her. "Look, I get that you are hella bitter about this whole graduating-but-not-really thing, but you don't need to take it out on me. Back me up here. Global warming is a Truth, right?"

"No, it's a Fact," said Xilo. "And you know how those go."

"What do you care, anyway?" said Billy. "We're down here, and we've got a thermostat set at seventy-two. No worries."

"You'll be worried when you graduate," Jaya muttered.

"Yeah, and how did that go for _you_? Tell us again what happened? The green kid dropped a bunch of metal sticks on you? That's _epic_."

She looked up and shot a hex at Billy, setting his notebook on fire. He sat there and watched it burn, grinning.

"You couldn't have done any better," said Jaya, and went back to copying Seymour's notes.

"Of course I couldn't do better. I don't _want_ to do better," said Billy. "You and the others have it all backwards. You don't get ahead in this place by doing better. You get ahead by laying low. Didn't you notice all the extra homework and field assignments and shit you guys got when the faculty suddenly realized your team was functional? That was bad news. And then you guys went with it. And look where you are. Where did all those hours go?" He shook his head. "You fucked up. Take the shame."

"There's no shame in hard work," Jaya gritted.

"Yeah, but you didn't enjoy it."

"Some people enjoy working. Some people enjoy trying to better themselves and getting the results. Some people aren't lazy assholes whose fathers are paying their way through their education."

Billy shrugged. "Same difference. I'm still going to wind up an eighteen-year-old CEO. Nobody said I have to do a good job."

"Well, have fun failing over there in Texas."

"Thanks, I will."

"Dude, whatever. You guys have _all_ got it wrong."

Jaya and Billy looked up at Seymour. "How so?" Jaya hazarded.

"You're doing everything yourselves, that's 'how so'. Results or no results or enjoying yourself or whatever. It's all solo, and that just doesn't work. You have to _delegate_."

Billy worked his jaw in thought before attempting to clarify, "I need to _delegate_ in order to purposefully fail at life?"

"Well, no, not exactly, but you need other people's help. Look, you never could have gotten into drugs and alcohol and stuff if you hadn't started going to those parties, right? And whatsername, Janey, is the one who threw all those parties. She enabled you. So she's like your Department of Liquor and Hallucinogens, and then Johnny Rancid is your guy for cars, and Xilo is your guy for…for…" Seymour studied Xilo's scowl for a few moments before continuing, "your guy for blindly doing everything you tell him to."

Xilo shrugged. "Yeah, basically."

"So you're delegating. And that's cool, right? You're practically a CEO already. Good for you."

Billy scowled. "Suck me. That's not what CEOs do."

"Not that you'd know or anything, since you haven't bothered to pay attention to any of the lessons concerning business. For all you know, it's the CEO's job to sleep with his secretaries and make a million babies," said Vito, stomping over to the table and seating himself firmly between Jaya and Billy.

"Well, last time I checked, that's exactly what my dad does," Billy pointed out.

"Oh, whine, whine, whine. That's all you ever do. Your dad's a freaking billionaire, he must be doing _something_ right."

"Or someone. Nice to have you back, kid. How was it, being graduated-but-not-really?"

"So I assume you don't need help with the science homework. So you won't ask me, right?"

"…goddammit."

Vito turned to Jaya. "Still sore?"

"Shut up," Jaya snapped.

"I meant physically. But whatever." Vito glanced skeptically at the books laid out in front of them. "You know, after all that, we might as well just not study. Same difference. I'm still a genius, and you're still copying my notes."

"I like learning," said Jaya.

Billy and Xilo exchanged looks, and Billy announced that they were going out.

"You know, to live," Billy added on their way out. "It's that thing people do instead of studying. You might try it some time."

Vito watched them go, and then turned to Seymour and Elliot, who had been engaged in private conversation. "All right. Let's have it."

Seymour grinned sheepishly. "I didn't come up with anything particularly biting but…you guys kind of suck." Elliot nodded emphatically. "But I do mean that in the best way. Where's Montego?"

"In the gym, beating out his frustrations. Bailey's in there with him."

"What's he worried about? He's still graduating sooner than all of us anyway."

"It's the principle of the thing," Jaya and Vito said simultaneously. Elliot snorted, and took Jaya's notes away so he could scribble deranged smiley faces over the formulas.

Jaya sighed. "I don't care what anybody else says. Getting out of here would have been really cool, and everybody knows it. You're all just jealous that we actually got the opportunity, so you call can just suck it."

"Tell that to Billy," said Seymour, sounding mildly wounded. "I just think it sucks how you guys are all "qualified", even though everybody here has been taking the same classes at the same pace, and now suddenly you aren't. I mean, what were they trying to prove? It doesn't even make sense. So yeah, I'm bitter."

"Well, cut it out. _You_ suck for being bitter."

"And you suck for having the nerve to be bitter about getting what you deserve!"

"And everybody here sucks for being stupid!" Vito snapped. "Except for me. I'm still cool. Now _shut up_ and get over it."

They spent the next twenty minutes in disgruntled silence while Jaya began making a second copy of notes to replace the copy Elliot had degraded with smiley faces.

It was finally Seymour who said, "For the record, I don't mind putting up with your crap for a couple more years."

Jaya nodded stiffly. "Right back at you."


	21. Chapter 21

Kind of a random idea, but I've been in a writing mood lately. :)

**Hazing**

There were forms of hazing worse than unicycles and pink skirts, and they came in Seymour.

It started out innocently enough, as everything with Seymour did. But finally it began:

"Stone," Seymour said, with a conspiratorial glance at Elliot and Billy that went completely unnoticed by the disguised Titan, "I have a really important question for you."

"All right," Stone said agreeably. "Bring it."

Seymour grinned. He liked open invitations."Right, so, Elliot, Billy, and myself: marry, shag, throw off a cliff. Answer very carefully." He set his chin in his hand and raised his eyebrows expectantly in a way Stone had quickly learned to fear.

Suddenly Stone realized that he was the center of attention. Jinx and Angelica had ceased their feminine rituals and were giggling behind their hands. Montego and Bailey had left off their arm-wrestling and were staring at him. Even Vito had closed the program on his computer and was listening intently.

Seymour was grinning, and Stone observed, not for the first time, that his teeth were a little too straight and a little too white. "Come on, man. It's a classic. You _have_ to answer it."

"I do?" Stone asked weakly. Elliot began to laugh in his silent, shoulder-shaking fashion.

"If you shag me, I will give you AIDs," Billy said matter-of-factly. "That is a promise."

"I'm really bad at house-keeping," said Seymour. "Probably better if you just shag me and get it over with."

"Dude---"

"And if you cliff Elliot, he will totally kill you. Like, come back from the dead," Seymour added. Elliot raised his arms up straight in front of him and pulled a zombie-face.

"If you cliff me, you will never drive a car safely ever again," said Billy. "I have friends in high places. They will hunt you down."

"I'll take care of it personally," said Xilo, fixing Stone with a death glare.

"Yeah, man, the entirety of Crash Alley will defend the honor of the prince," said Seymour. "So what now? Who gets what?"

Stone sat quietly for several minutes, hoping they would all just let it go. When they didn't, and Seymour prompted him once again, he said, "Well, I'm going to have to cliff you for starting this."

Seymour's eyebrows shot up, and Elliot began laughing for real, with full voice.

"You're not going to cliff me?" Billy sounded as if he wouldn't dare believe anything Stone said after that. "Are you kidding? I _always_ get cliffed._"_

"Not if you're going to sic an army on me to hunt me down, you're not," said Stone. "I just don't have time for stuff like that."

"Well…well, don't shag me," Billy warned him. "Don't you dare shag me. Don't you dare freaking shag me---"

"Okay, fine, I'll marry you," said Stone. "You'd keep me financially covered, and you're good for the long run."

Billy leaned back, still looking surprised, but satisfied. "Hell yeah I'm good for the long run."

"You're totally screwed for the long run," Seymour muttered.

"And speaking of that, I'd shag Elliot," said Stone, "because I'd trust him not to say anything about it later."

There was a long, uneasy pause while the students considered Stone's answer.

Then, Bailey began a slow-clap, like in the movies. A few other students joined in. "That is the best freaking rationale I've ever heard!"

"It's totally lame," said Seymour.

"Sounds like somebody's disappointed they didn't get shagged," Jinx giggled, and they began a small fight on the side.

"How does it usually go?" Stone asked Angelica, who was trying to stop laughing.

"Usually Billy gets cliffed, because people decide they can just take their chances with whatever his friends will do. Seymour gets shagged because he's relatively harmless, and Elliot gets married because he'd stay out of the way," said Angelica.

Stone frowned. "But he'd break everything in the house."

Elliot frowned, but Angelica shrugged. "Apparently some people could live with that. But he is _very_ shaggable. Hope I'm not embarrassing you, dear," she added quickly. The teleporter didn't look embarrassed in the slightest. In fact, he looked rather pleased.

"Well, I don't mean any of that for real," Stone said quickly. "I'm just speaking in the theoretical."

"But it's good to plan ahead," said Seymour, turning away from Jaya. "So I'll be watching my freaking back any time we're near any cliffs."

"Good idea," said Stone.

Later, he thought about how all of them should have started watching their backs a lot sooner.


	22. Chapter 22

More stuff setting up for Jinxed For Life, which is getting close to being finished...ugh, I've said that way too many times...

**The Kids in the City**

If the Titans were the mainstream, tweeny-bop, Disney-pop stars of the judicial media, the HIVE were the late-night, strong-indie-following, home-made Youtube-phenomena starlets.

It helped that they were social creatures, as far as heroes and villains went. And the kids in the city were into anarchy. As long as none of the students attempted to explain that HIVE was not, as commonly believed, a hip boarding-school for the politically opinionated and vandalism-adept, but in fact a prison-like nightmare of a last stop for kids with special powers and no options left, any HIVE student could attain instant popularity amongst the Jump City teens looking for the next big underground thing.

The rule amongst the HIVE concerning this was that they had to prohibit their followers from taking any vigilante action of their own. Copycats were the active HIVE students' worst nightmare.

But their following was strong.

Kids tried to be the paparazzi. Pictures popped up on their blogs and Facebooks: "Billy at the party at Janey's house," featuring a kid who definitely had ginger-brown hair and sunglasses but could have just been a look-a-like; "Jinx and See-More at the concert, OMG, we were so happy to see them!!!!!111" featuring a skinny black kid and a pink punk who both turned out to be nobody. All the pictures generally turned out to be look-a-likes, or near misses, or too blurry to tell. The HIVE were good at avoiding cameras.

Kids made T-shirts sporting inside jokes : Billy's "My affluence makes an absurdity of the regulations", which he actually ripped off from the YuGiOh Abridged episode Seymour forced him to watch; Seymour's short-lived use of the word "Frak", straight from the east coast; Jaya's equally short-lived curse-phrase "Holy Krishna-sticks", which she had started saying as a joke when people learned she was Indian and automatically assumed she followed one of the religions there.

Kids read the books they read. (A quick note: The HIVE were assigned something like two novels of literary merit a week, which they managed to read by splitting up sections of the book amongst themselves. So, for example, when Professor Nanson insisted that they read Fight Club in order that they might truly appreciate soap, Vito was the only one who ended up actually reading that chapter, and refused to use soap in the shower for a week before Angelica could convince him that Dove bars weren't made of people.) Some kid somewhere always managed to wrangle the latest assignment out of one of the students, and then book clubs would spring up everywhere, everybody saying, "Yeah, I just decided to read it one day," with a _wink._

The faculty got a little concerned at times, warning the students of the personal ramifications of revealing civilian identities.

But the personal ramifications were _superb._

Seymour could officially score free tickets to _anything_. The task of getting tickets to an event always fell to Seymour because he was the only one shameless enough to call someone at three in the morning and demand the tickets.

The Best Buys, Circuit Cities, Sears, whatever tech-shop you could imagine, each had a small, handwritten sign in the corner of their windows that said: "Hey, V.G., come help yourself," followed by various requests for time machines, freeze rays, hypno-beams, all the stereotypical stuff Vito prided himself in having too much integrity to build. But there was no sense in crushing the hopes of every geek in Jump City, so he let them dream.

After a rash of successes at Crash Alley, Billy was named Prince of the Alley. Particularly memorable was a night in July when Billy walked out onto the track in just an old pair of jeans and a plain white t-shirt, no shoes, no sunglasses. He walked over to his car, cool as anything, and just sat on the hood, and gave all the other drivers a _look_. Every other racer signed up for that race quit, right then and there. The moment was immortalized on several alley walls, and Billy was an icon of alcohol, bare feet, jeans, white t-shirts, and horribly ravaged cars.

Speaking of graffiti, Elliot had received international recognition as a tag artist. After avoiding a permanent label for as long as he could, a fan finally named him "Demo", and he took it as his signature. This was the one activity in which copy-cats were inevitable, but it was mostly harmless. Elliot's stuff was more beautiful than vulgar, and many suspected that the businesses who "suffered" from his decorations were secretly flattered, whether or not they knew who he was.

The back section of the local Hot Topic had secretly been turned into the Jinx section. Luckily the girls stopped trying to dye their hair pink after on disastrous attempt left a girl bald. Jaya sent her a pink wig, and the fan bragged about it until her hair grew back.

The local gyms and fitness clubs had latched onto Angelica, Bailey, and Montego. Boys showed up wanting to bulk up to be a Bailey or a Montego. Girls showed up wanting to slim down to Angelica's cagey ribs and sharp hip-bones. Not one of the three felt it prudent to mention they had achieved their physicality through government experiments and steroids (in the boys' case) or bulimia (in the girl's case). At the very least, they agreed, the kids were getting healthier, and that was cool.

The fans had more respect than to pair them together in weird couples, like 'Billinx' or 'Wykmore' or 'Bailego'. Besides, each of the HIVE were so accessible, it was just as likely they were going steady with a local kid than with each other.

There was a freaking website with their "civvie" profiles and everything (which were mostly incorrect, which was perfectly fine).

It was great. The HIVE had a stronger and more dedicated fan base than the Titans could ever beg for. Kids actually thought they were cool. Kids generally thought the Titans were inaccessible, shallow, media hogs. Some even went so far as to say that they "weren't really teenagers". Traitors to their generation. But the HIVE were there, and available, and ready for attention.

The HIVE lapped it up.

It was the only kind of positive recognition they got.


	23. Chapter 23

First college post! Conceived as we watched Zeffirelli's Romeo and Juliet!

* * *

**Film and Fetish**

"I can't do this."

"Shut up."

"Romeo looks like Zac Efron, though…"

"That's not his fault."

"It's like Shakespearian High School Musical, though…"

"Seymour, _shut up_."

Seymour scowled. "You and your dead white guy fetish."

Jaya kicked him under the desk. Seymour kicked back.

Billy kicked both their chairs. "Shut up."

"Dude, don't pretend your enjoying this."

"I'm holding out for the nude scene, alright?"

"You're shameless, dude."

"Olivia Hussey's cute. And she's _my age_."

"Yeah, forty years ago!"

Montego kicked their seats. "Shut up. This is hard enough to watch with all of them wearing those _tights_."

Seymour laughed. "Now you sound like a homophobe."

Bailey chuckled drily somewhere in the dark.

The students wondered briefly why they hadn't been told by a figure of authority to shut up yet. And as for that, where had the substitute gone?

Then the disc began to skip.

"So I think Zeffirelli was trying to show how there's no _center_ to the world of Verona," Seymour mimicked the substitute's babble from the beginning of class. "Clearly these separated, disconnected images are meant to show how nothing in the world of Romeo and Juliet makes sense because Shakespeare was _screwed up_."

"Shut up!" Jinx snapped. "Zac Efron is doing something cute!"

"He's killing that guy."

"Yeah, but it's _cute_."

Elliot elbowed her, and Jinx shrugged defensively. "I just like his eyes, that's all."

"White guy fetish," Seymour intoned.

"Shut up."

"Blue eyes fetish…"

Jinx kicked him again.

"Zac Efron isn't exactly _punk_, is he?" Billy said smugly.

Jinx and Seymour each threw an item from their desks at him simultaneously.

Billy laughed. "Whatever. I'm sorry you guys can't stick to your guns."

"Anarchy on this planet is nonexistent anyway," said Xilo from behind his math homework. "You guys are just deluding yourselves."

He and Billy bumped fists.

Jinx glanced over at Vito, who was frowning determinedly at the film. "Well?"

Vito sighed. "I really, really hate it when directors go for this "authentic Italian" vibe. Actually, I really hate it when _Shakespeare_ goes for the vibe. He didn't know anything about Italy. And I hate the costumes, and I hate Zac Efron, and I hate that girl, and I really just hate Shakespeare."

Jinx shrank back a little bit. "Oh."

"Sorry."

Seymour turned to Elliot. "How's the music, anyway?"

Elliot made a half and half motion in the air.

Seymour nodded. "Yeah, I didn't like that one singer."

"Yeah," Jinx said. "He was---"

"Cute?" Billy cut in innocently.

The disc settled as Friar Lawrence prepared fake poison for Juliet, and the class fell silent again until:

"Hey!" Angelica shouted from the back.

The students turned to look up at her narrowed eyes glowing in the dark.

Hands clenched dangerously on her desk, Angelica said, "_Why isn't Paris at her grave?"_

"Oh," said Jinx. "Because it's not important, I guess."

"But that's the most…that's my favorite…I hate this movie!" Angelica whined pettishly. "Hurry up and die, Zac Efron! You didn't even bother to kill Paris!"

Bailey rubbed her shoulders soothingly. "It's just a movie."

Seymour turned back to the screen. "Yeah, you'd better be crying, Friar Lawrence, you screwed up big time."

Billy kicked his seat. "Shut up, she's waking up."

"Billy and Olivia, sitting in a tree…" Vito sing-songed distractedly.

"Why is she kissing him like that?" said Xilo. "He's dead."

"Because she wants to do it again," said Billy.

Xilo sat up a little. "Necrophilia?"

"Would that be a good thing?" said Seymour.

"Maybe," said Billy.

Jinx snorted. "Fakest. Stabbing motion. Ever. Your girlfriend can't act, Billy."

"She's better in later movies."

"Yeah, but then she's not your age," said Seymour.

Billy leaned back in his seat. "As far as she knows."

"Forty years ago, dude."

"That's okay."

The movie was over, and no one moved to switch on the lights. Seymour voiced the hope of the class:

"Maybe if we just sit here and stay quiet, the substitute won't come back and we can just have a free day."

"Technically the movie should still be going," Vito pointed out.

"So let's ditch," said Billy.

"I can't believe that was supposed to be educational," Angelica muttered.

Cyborg, known currently as Stone, shrank further and further in his seat.

He had always been told Zeffirelli was a great director, Olivia Hussey a fantastic Juliet, and the film as a whole a masterpiece. Having seen the movie himself now, he believed it too.

As he always did when it came to films and works of artistic merit amongst the HIVE, he kept his mouth shut.


	24. Chapter 24

Foreshadowing, relationship-establishing, and all kinds of other stuff. Enjoy!

**

* * *

**

**A Little Something Like Lightspeed**

It happened one day in the beginning of their friendship that Jinx and Seymour were walking down the road, and as they stepped safely onto the sidewalk two cars collided behind them.

Seymour, who had seen it coming, pulled Jinx further up on the cement. Neither looked back, Seymour because he could see it through the back of his head, and Jinx because she knew what it was and didn't want to see.

"I feel terrible," she said. "I'm so bad at this."

"What? You weren't even near them."

"But that was me."

"You don't know that."

"I felt it."

"I think you're taking your stage name a little too seriously."

"I got this name for a reason. It's completely true. This is just what happens around me."

"Of course. The world revolves around you."

"Seymour, I'm completely serious. I make this stuff happen."

"Of course you do. Master of Fate," Seymour laughed. "I didn't see any of the usual energy-crackling stuff."

"It's not always obvious. It's just…I can feel the energy leaving me. It doesn't have to be deliberate. It's like…Jesus had that too, didn't he? He ended up blessing some woman just because she was grabbing at his clothes. He couldn't control it."

"So first you're the Master of Fate, and now you're Jesus. Conceited much?"

"Look, I'm just telling you, this is what happens around me."

They reached the next crosswalk. Seymour glanced up and down the road. "So you want to split it up?"

Jinx shrugged. "You can go do your own thing if you want."

"And if I don't want?"

"I'm just telling you."

Seymour sighed. "We're friends, right?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"And friends should be honest with each other and stuff, right?"

"Yeah. That's what I'm doing."

"So it's cool if I reciprocate?"

"Of course."

"You are so, completely full of yourself."

" 'I feel terrible'," he mimicked back to her. " 'I'm so responsible for everything and everybody. I control the world and fate and everybody involved.' Because obviously there's no such thing as a bad driver, or a faulty light, or a crazy pedestrian, or a cell phone call on the road. Like, what? Get over yourself. You're not that big."

Jinx looked as if she'd been slapped. "But that was me," she said weakly.

"Yeah, I know. I saw. There were no other outlying causes for that accident to happen. It was probably you. So?"

"So it's terrible!"

"Terrible stuff happens every day."

"Are you kidding me?"

"There's a woman three blocks from here being raped. Do you feel that? Is that you? In the suburbs right now, there's a kid getting the shit kicked out of him by his dad. Some girl just failed the math test that was going to make or break her grade. Eight people in this city lost their jobs in this last minute that we've been talking. Is all that _you_?" Seymour observed the damage he was doing, and tried to reign it in. "Look, I'm not saying you don't do any of that. But you don't do all of it."

Jinx was staring at the ground. "You don't even know," she finally said. "So whatever." The signal changed, and she crossed the street.

It was a few blocks before she realized that Seymour was keeping pace with her on the other side of the road. At the next crosswalk she had to wait for the signal, and she heard him yelling,

"Hey, girl!"

She wouldn't look.

"Hey, I've got something for you!"

He was so ridiculous.

"Yeah, see how long you can keep this up!"

He was so full of it. Where did he get the idea he could lecture her like that? He had a God complex of his own. It wasn't fair.

"Something life changing and super-important is about to happen, and I need you to _keep your eyes on me or I will jump into the road and get hit by oncoming traffic!_"

She didn't believe him until she heard a car screeching as it slid on its brakes.

He was in the road, and he was slipping between two cars just before they had hit each other, and he was grabbing her arm and they were running and there were people behind them yelling and panicking.

Seymour didn't look back because he could see through the back of his head that driver number two had sustained a light head injury and everyone on the scene was yelling about crazy pedestrians, and he felt bad but he knew it was completely worth it. Jinx didn't look back because she was trying to figure out how she could kick Seymour in the shins without tripping herself.

Seymour forced himself to laugh. "Dude, did you see me? Were you watching? I was running at something like lightspeed, dude!"

"You are fucking insane!" She yelled at him as they rounded another corner.

"Whatever. You're just mad because I can do it too!" Seymour yelled back. "I can make accidents happen too! You're not so hot."

And she was completely furious, but she knew he had a point.

"That doesn't mean I'm not dangerous," she said. "It just means that you're just as bad as me."

"Yeah," he laughed. "We should stick together."

"My point from earlier still stands," she said.

"Yeah, well, so does mine. You're not so bad."

They stayed together for several years, until somebody else came along and told her about the same thing, only in a much nicer way, and without running into oncoming traffic.


	25. Chapter 25

**March of the Penguins**

Cyborg steeled himself for the worst.

From an analytical perspective, the viewing of this film was guaranteed to go badly because the HIVE had a terrible perspective on nuclear family structure. The concept of parents who took responsibility for their kids was something rather alien. The concepts of survival of the fittest and close family ties clashed. The HIVE would find that funny.

From a personal perspective, Cyborg happened to think that March of the Penguins was a fantastic cinematic achievement, heartwarming, and touching. This almost automatically meant that the HIVE would find it weak-assed, flimsy, and "gay", not in the homosexual sense of the word, of course, but in the sarcastic, "can you believe that word used to be an innocent way of expressing happiness?" sense.

The bloodbath began as the winter storm set upon the husbands trying to protect the eggs from the storm. As the mass rotated, frozen, dead eggs were spotted on the sidelines.

"If they're really starving as much as all that, couldn't they eat the eggs?" Seymour observed.

Jinx, always the closest thing to a voice of reason, elbowed him. "That's sick."

"That's survival of the fittest."

Billy muttered something darkly under his breath, prompting Xilo to ask, "What's an orgy?"

Bailey, who got Billy's meaning immediately, burst out laughing. Angelica glared at him. He shrugged her off. "Whatever, they know."

"I don't get it," said Vito.

"They're keeping in a moving mass to keep warm," said Jinx.

"Yeah, no duh, okay. But I mean, they're starving."

"They're dedicated."

"Yeah, but there's a bunch of food all around them."

"Well, what do you expect them to do, eat each other?"

"No! Look at the fringes of the group! Frozen eggs everywhere. The chick was inside living off the nutrients, and now it's dead. Why can't they eat that?"

"Because they're not cannibals!"

"Then they're stupid," Vito muttered. "That's a waste of resources."

"Maybe they _do_ eat the dead eggs," said Billy, cutting in, "But the filmmakers just didn't show it because they're trying to make penguins look like the best fricking thing we ever took for granted on this planet. Cannibals aren't cute. You can't make something like Happy Feet out of a bunch of cannibals."

There was a pause as the mother of a dead chick tried to steal a baby chick from another mother.

"There's no such thing as a mother who wants a kid that much," Angelica muttered.

"Happy Feet was way better than this," Seymour announced. "Elijah Wood is the only penguin voice I will ever appreciate."

"Are you kidding? This is Morgan Freeman, bringing sexy back to the north pole," said Billy.

"_South_ pole, dude. Are you even watching this?"

"Okay, speaking of voices," said Vito. "They know each other by song, right?"

"Or by tap-dancing," said Jinx.

"…right. So, Dad comes back to find dead baby chick. Is the dead baby chick singing? That doesn't work."

"He just keeps looking for it, and when he can't find it, he knows it's dead," said Jinx. "If I can figure that one out---"

"No, but they showed one of the dads finding a dead chick."

"Doesn't mean it was _his_ dead chick."

"And I mean, how awkward. He made that huge, horrible trip for nothing. Couldn't the mom have left a note or something? I mean jeez, talk about taking people for granted."

"You can definitely see where the writers of Happy Feet got their inspiration," said Seymour. "I can follow this plot point by plot point. Look, here comes a predator bird. I already knew that was coming. I bet he'll be a completely ineffectual hunter and won't actually catch anything."

The predator bird was ineffectual. When he did, at last, catch a baby penguin, Angelica said, "I like how all the adults are standing around not doing anything about it."

"True to life," Billy murmured.

Five minutes later, when the families were reunited:

"I like how the parents are making out right in front of the kid," said Angelica.

"True to life," Billy repeated.

"How French of you," said Seymour.

Billy threw his pencil at him. "What the hell?"

Seymour put two fingers together, miming a cigarette, and pretended to take a drag from it. "Ah! Eet ees sad! Ze panguens do like ze humans do, and zey all do eet badly! How like life!"

Jinx elbowed him. Seymour elbowed her back and added defensively, "For the record, I was doing an impersonation of _Robin Williams'_ version of how French people talk."

Bailey laughed. "I remember that! He's so good."

"He's a total druggie," said Vito.

"Drugs make you brilliant," said Bailey.

"We have conflicting evidence before us," Montego muttered, and Bailey punched his arm lightly.

"Alright, that's it," Cyborg announced. "I've had enough. I've seriously had enough."

He stood before the class.

"I happen to _like_ this movie. I think it's pretty damn impressive. I think it's amazing that they were able to get all this on film in those conditions. I think Morgan Freeman has a great narrative voice, and I appreciate that they were able to get all these random events into a story line that has absolutely nothing to do with Happy Feet, thank you very much. Now there are twenty minutes left to this movie, and we are going to watch them in absolutely perfect silence or so help me God I will destroy this room and every video projector in this facility just so I never have to suffer through your sarcastic, oh-so-clever critiques _again_. Thank you."

He went back to his seat and sat. The class was silent for the last twenty minutes of the film, and he enjoyed those twenty minutes very much. When the movie was over and they took off to their next class, he was given a wide berth.

Except for Jinx, who sidled up to him and hooked her arm in his.

"_That_," she said, "Was pretty damn impressive."

Cyborg glowed all the way down the hall into the next class.


End file.
